


Astronomy in Reverse

by Felgia_Starr



Series: DFW 2020 Challenge [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, F/M, Forced Marriage, Height Differences, I Don't Even Know, Martians, Not Beta Read, Outer Space, POV Hermione Granger, Planets, Prompt Fic, Venusians, Weirdness, does this count as sci-fi?, does this count as voldy wins?, i would be on death row, if info dumping was a crime, implied alien sex, this is both the worst and best thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felgia_Starr/pseuds/Felgia_Starr
Summary: As the third daughter of the Ruling Mother of Venus, Hermione supposes she should have expected that she would be the one that’s most practical to be married off to some stranger half-way across the solar system, but that doesn’t mean she likes the idea—because she doesn’t. At all. Especially after she found out that she was betrothed to a boot-licking Martian! And the worst part is, the Martian she needs to marry is none other than Draco Malfoy, the only son of Voldemort’s third-in-command. Oh, how will she ever survive this ordeal?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: DFW 2020 Challenge [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666876
Comments: 28
Kudos: 91





	1. The Morning Star

* * *

The moment she stepped foot in the throne room, Hermione figured that whatever news the Ruling Mother had summoned her for would end up raining down on the great day she thought she was having. She could tell from the poorly-veiled smug smirks on both of her sisters’ faces that something terrible was about to be dropped on her and her only. They were so despicable that their pea-brains wished nothing but constant misfortune on her, and it was now clear to her that fate favoured them because the bad things she knew her elder sisters wanted to happen to her always came true. At this point, she had no idea which was a stronger force—her bad luck or their too-good-to-be-coincidental fortune.   
  
She averted her gaze to the Ruling Mother sitting stiffly on her throne made of molten rocks and caught a glimpse of impatience in her stern eyes. Not wanting to upset her mother, Hermione immediately bowed at the waist, her right hand atop her abdomen. She refused to look up while her mother continued to be silent. She, along with the rest of the regular Venusian citizens, was a servant to the Ruling Mother first and foremost, and although she resented the fact that her home planet practically lost all freedom after surrendering to Voldemort’s robot and human forces, Hermione was required by law to conceal any hint of disobedience. Hopefully, through this small act of not straightening up until Mother Minerva told her to do so would show the loyalty she had to the throne and Venus in general—and would hopefully cancel out the terrible fate that was surely about to come to her.   
  
For a fleeting moment, Hermione wondered if her mother’s title still mattered much after Voldemort’s conquest across the solar system, if it still held as much weight as it did before the psychopathic human ruined the balance and order of the galaxy—or was the name nothing more than that? A name meant to symbolise someone else’s greatness. Was the Ruling Mother of Venus as powerful as the moniker indicated? Or was the most powerful woman Hermione had ever known another servant—along with the trillions of captives in Voldemort’s solar system—working to make the tyrant’s foolish dreams come true?   
  
The thoughts faded as soon as her mother opened her mouth.   
  
“Rise, my child,” Mother Minerva commanded, “and remain where you stand.”   
  
Hermione did as she was told, wary of the inevitable. She stood eerily still, always careful not to betray her discomfort, and opened up her hands, baring her palms in front of her as she’d always seen the peasants do whenever they were given a chance to stand before the Ruling Mother. That was her role today, apparently, and Hermione had never failed to act accordingly.    
  
Usually, if Mother Minerva wanted her and her older sisters to witness something important as she held court, Hermione was seated on her left side, signifying her ineligibility to take and sit on the throne herself. She was only the third daughter, after all. According to others, she was nothing more than a spare for the spare, a mere miscalculated redundant thing with little-to-no power in the court. But that did not matter gravely at this particular moment. Focus was what she needed. She needed to listen carefully and focus.   
  
“Are you aware of our planet’s predicament, Hermione?” Mother Minerva questioned, her dictation and tone as powerful as the volcanoes threatening to make more of a hellfire out of Venus every time they rumbled.   
  
She nodded once. “Yes, Mother. High King Voldemort has taken over the entire solar system, and that, of course, includes Venus.”   
  
Mother Minerva’s eyes narrowed, and for a few terrifying seconds, Hermione wondered if she’d said something incorrect. “Yes. Before he could take our planet by force, I surrendered peacefully to prevent our warriors from dying unreasonable deaths. Now, he calls himself the Ultimate Overlord of the Cosmos and rules over all of us.”   
  
Hermione nodded once more, mentally giggling at the pretentious title Voldemort had given to himself. It was utterly obvious that the despicable human had only taken over the solar system because he could. Frankly, it would not come as a surprise if she were to find out that Voldemort was nothing more than an insignificant imbecile who had bigger dreams than brains. “I am aware of the High King’s status, Mother.”   
  
“Good.” Mother Minerva’s lips curved upwards in the slightest sense. It was a short almost-imperceptible smile, but Hermione prided herself for being able to get such a reaction from her mother. “Then you should understand why you have to do this.”   
  
Hermione frowned, her stomach churning in apprehension. She resisted the urge to let her fingers fidget and shake. Judging by the Ruling Mother’s hard-set unmoving gaze, Hermione figured that she wouldn’t be able to get out of whatever situation was about to be forced on her. Swallowing her nerves, she forced herself to raise her chin and stand proudly. “I would be honoured to execute whatever task you give me, Mother Minerva.”   
  
“And I’m eternally grateful for your undying loyalty, my lovely daughter, but unfortunately, our High King Voldemort fears for mutiny and betrayal. He doesn’t quite trust us yet,” Mother Minerva paused, taking a long deep breath. “I want you to understand one thing, Hermione. I want you to understand that to ensure the safety of our people and absolute peace in the galaxy, we all must make sacrifices.”   
  
Unable to help herself, Hermione broke away from her mother’s intense leer, subconsciously staring at the long lines present on her palms instead. “And what kind of sacrifice do I have to make?”   
  
The Ruling Mother felt the need to inhale once more, sighing all the air out of her nose audibly. “The Great Atomic Ruler demands that we choose five representatives—one from every planet in the solar system except for Earth, Mars, and Mercury, of course—to marry five of his most loyal followers.”   
  
For a while, Hermione thought that her mother was jesting. Marriage between a Venusian and a foreigner had been outlawed for centuries now—how could her mother let this happen to her?   
  
“You want me to marry an alien?” Hermione choked out, her breath tangled up in a ball of disbelief inside her throat.   
  
“I’m afraid what you and I want don’t matter in times like this, Hermione,” Mother Minerva softly said, a hint of defeat lacing her words. “But, yes, you’re the one I’ve chosen. The High King informed me that you will be marrying a Martian man, and if I remember correctly, he also belongs to the upper class, so you needn’t worry about having a mere peasant for a husband.”   
  
Her heart dropped to her stomach, her lungs constricting against her chest. All of a sudden, breathing was one of the most difficult things she’d had to do, and she was so sure that if she didn’t inhale quickly enough, she would collapse in an undignified heap on the floor.   
  
Despite all of this, Mother Minerva kept talking, seemingly unaware of Hermione’s very visible reactions. Her hands were shaking, for Kromelia’s sake! She felt her throat clog up in the emotions that she was not allowed to convey, her tongue getting stuck in a self-inflicted knot as her lips trembled. She knew she was blinking too many times, and she knew the reason as to why she continued to do so, but she would never be cowardly—or brave—enough to admit aloud that she was close to tears.   
  
“You’re the only one I know who can do this, my child. You will have the opportunity to show our culture to the whole galaxy, and you have enough intelligence, courage, and dignity to withstand the horrors they might inflict on you.”   
  
It took all of her inner strength not to drop to her knees and break down. She was a strong woman, and she must show it now more than ever, but Mother Minerva’s words kept repeating themselves in her head.    
  
She couldn’t believe it. Her mother was aware of men’s constant mistreatment of women from other planets, of men’s disrespect towards women, of men’s inexcusable behaviour against what they believed to be the lesser sex—those were the main reasons why their female ancestors had made Venus a habitable place and why, even after countless centuries, only women lived on their beloved planet in the first place!   
  
Venus was initially a haven for women, and after Rowena and Helga had figured out how to reproduce without men and give birth to only female babies, no man had ever stepped foot on the planet. Endless gender-based violence continued to thrive on other planets, and Mother Minerva knew this—that was why they kept enhancing the force field around Venus every year! Mother Minerva knew that she might be beaten down, broken, and scarred by sending her off to marry a Martian male, across the solar system, but she was still eager to do it, risk her daughter’s life, and keep her part of the deal with the Earthling devil.   
  
Hermione was aware of the fact that she was only the third daughter, that she was only the spare’s spare, but before today, she’d at least thought that her own mother cared for her well-being. She’d been wrong and that wasn’t the case at all. She was nothing but throwaway parts, and it was finally time for her to be tossed in the rubbish bin.   
  
Fighting off her tears through shut eyes, she heard her sisters’ mocking chortles and unsympathetic insults. Their voices, muffled by their hands on their mouths, stuck out and ignited a volcano of fury inside her.   
  
Her head snapped back up to glare at her mother. She clenched her previously-opened and harmless hands into fists and bared her teeth. “Why me? Why can’t  _ they  _ marry the bloody Martian?”   
  
She should not be the one forced to marry. Her older sisters were selfish vindictive creatures who couldn’t care less about the welfare of their home planet. They certainly should not be next in line for the throne, not when all they could think about were their interests and shallow desires. If they were incapable of caring for Venus, then they should be the ones sent off to Mars! Hermione was the one who put effort into charity work, the one who visited the poor and unprivileged, and the one who ensured a better future for the Venusian youth! She should be the heir to the throne instead of her older sisters! She deserved the title more than anyone on the planet!    
  
Mother Minerva was taken aback by her unexpected outburst. “Hermione, my child—”   
  
“Don’t call me that! Don’t lie and tell me that you consider me as your child when you’re so willing to send me packing to another planet!”   
  
Minerva abruptly stood up in anger, glaring down at her. “I will not tolerate being accused of such ridiculous things! And I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour from you! I am your Ruling Mother, and you better speak to me with respect!”   
  
Knowing that she’d already lost the battle before it could even begin, Hermione ground her teeth together and bowed at waist once more, this time pressing her hands together in a silent plea. It was the bow used by someone who’d done wrong and wanted to repent, and she was acting out the particular bow on behalf of her mother. She knew she was not the one in need of redemption, but it was hard to express such feelings when her mother so clearly showed signs of sanity loss. One day, she hoped that her mother would take the right path and see the grave mistake she’d just made, but for now, Hermione must take the responsibility of bowing for her mother’s shameful wrongdoings.    
  
With one bow, she also conveyed her unwillingness to fight the Ruling Mother’s conviction. One couldn’t protest Mother Minerva’s words, after all, and she knew that her self-control had slipped away from her fingers a few moments ago before she took hold of it again. She knew it was wrong of her to burst out like that—her sisters would probably see her as an over-emotional freak from now on, not that they’d ever thought of her in a brighter light.   
  
“Forgive me, Mother,” she forced out through clenched teeth. “I swear to marry the Martian if it’s your true wish.”   
  
“It is,” Mother Minerva snapped. “Make sure that I will not hear any of your disagreements in the near future.”   
  
“Yes, Mother,” spoke Hermione passively. “I will never question your command again.”   
  
“Good,” the Ruling Mother stated, shuffling back to her throne. Hermione stayed in her bowing position, waiting for the Ruling Mother to let her rise, but she only did so when the bones in Hermione’s back began to ache, when her neck formed cramps, and when her wrists started growing numb. “You may take your leave.”   
  
Hermione straightened her posture and turned around, immediately heading for the doors. As she walked past the statues of the first Warriors of Light outside the throne room, she couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different had she been the first-born.    
  
Who was she kidding? Of course, things would be different. If she was the heir to the throne, Mother Minerva would have died a long time ago, and  _ she  _ would’ve been crowned as the Ruling Mother of Venus. If that were the case, Hermione was certain the planet would remain independent and free from Voldemort’s greedy clutches. Instead of that weak and greedy human, perhaps  _ she  _ could be the Great Atomic Ruler of the Galaxy.    
  
Before she could think up an assassination plot against her mother, Hermione shook the dangerous thoughts out of her head, sighing regretfully as she did so.   
  
If only she was born first.

* * *

A week ago, the mere thought of her staying in a spaceship was nothing more than an unattainable dream—something she would never achieve in a million years—but now, she was actually on one. In fact, she even had her cramped little bedroom in the ship named after  _ her! _ _   
_ _   
_ If the circumstances were different, she would be utterly ecstatic.  
  
It was no secret that Hermione had always wanted to get on a spaceship. When she was younger, she’d dreamt of becoming one of those space explorers and sailors among the stars, but she’d abandoned her childhood ambitions a long time ago, realising that home was home, and she’d never get a chance to leave even for only a short while.    
  
Ordinary Venusian citizens were prohibited to travel outside the planet. The Ruling Mother only approved of a few selected members of a secret space travel organization to shoot up in the sky on a metal ship and explore the neighbouring celestial bodies. This was done for their own good, of course—to ensure that the thousand years of abuse their ancestors had endured from the hurtful men of other planets would never happen again.   
  
A digital book she’d once read on the wall tablet in her bedroom had referred to Venus as the ‘Lonely Planet’, a hellish place full of uncivilised tribes and savages. Outsiders thought that Venusians had too feeble of minds to even consider communicating with other planets. Back then, she’d been outraged, but she now understood that foreigners might be curious to prod at the only planet in the solar system that was reclusive and rarely-contacted by other forms of life.    
  
Momentarily, Hermione wondered if the High King Voldemort had actually done right by conquering her home planet and forcing them to participate in uniting the galaxy. Perhaps now, in Voldemort’s galaxy, a little Venusian girl’s dream of voyaging across the stars could come true. Hermione certainly hoped that would be the case because if it was, maybe her sacrifice would be worth it. But then again, the anger continued to boil her blood even as she imagined a brighter future for her home planet. How could she ensure and envision a bright future for the Venusian youth when she was going to be living one planet away from her own, married to a pompous Martian who would probably enjoy licking Voldemort’s arse clean more than be in the same proximity as her?   
  
The doors to her bedroom suddenly opened in a loud swishing noise, startling her out of her thoughts. Recognising the intruder from their telling footsteps, Hermione stiffened and schooled her expression into an impassive one before turning around to acknowledge the presence of her eldest sister, Aeliana—also known as the bane of her existence, even eviller than her other sister, Diana. No doubt she was there to cause more destruction to Hermione’s life.   
  
“What do you want?” Hermione spat, narrowing her eyes. At this point, she’d lost too much to act courteous and polite for someone she knew to be more despicable than any antagonist she’d read about in her collection of fictional stories.    
  
Aeliana smirked, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Mother just told me the name of the Martian male you’re going to marry.”   
  
Hermione formed fists with her hands, feeling betrayed all of a sudden. When she’d been the one to broach the topic with Mother Minerva, she failed in retrieving any kind of answer; how was it when one of her sisters asked, it was so bloody easy for the Ruling Mother to give them what they wanted? Hermione knew that she was not her mother’s favourite, but surely, she deserved to know more about her future husband than any of her sisters?   
  
“Well?” she waited, quirking a brow. “Aren’t you going to tell me?”   
  
The smirk on her sister’s face grew even bigger and more wicked as she leaned in closer to Hermione’s face, her breath fanning across her face. Obnoxiously, Aeliana moved her mouth close to her ear, making sure she would be able to hear every single sound to come out of her foul lips. “You’re going to marry someone very special—a prince in his own right. I’m sure you’d be perfect for each other.”   
  
“Just tell me!”   
  
“Draco Malfoy,” hissed Aeliana, barely concealing the laughter in her tone.   
  
As her sister moved away from her, dread began to settle in Hermione’s stomach, flipping her organs and causing bile to rise to her throat.    
  
She was betrothed to Draco Malfoy, the son of Voldemort’s third-in-command.    
  
_ No. _ This had to be some sort of freakish nightmare. This couldn’t be the truth—her sisters had told a million of lies to her before, so why should this be any different?    
  
No, no, no. None of this had to be real!   
  
But then, she absently heard the infuriating giggles of her insipid older sister and realised it  _ was  _ the bloody truth. The evil chortle was the same thing she would hear whenever Aeliana or Diana succeeded in riling her up enough for her to get into trouble. Her sisters might have lied to her countless times before, but she knew they would never do so if the truth was far more agonising to her ears than any lie they could think of.   
  
Fuck, she was going to marry Draco Malfoy. It wasn’t bad enough that she was going to marry into a family from Mars—the planet where gender violence was most apparent, according to her digital books at least; she also had to marry the son of the leader of those foul Martians! What if the laws were different there, and the men were allowed to abuse and violate their wives? What if no one stood up for her because violence was a part of their culture? What if—   
  
“It’s a good thing that you’re the one being sent away into another planet, you know,” her sister stated, interrupting her panicky thoughts and causing fury to resurge in her veins once more. “You don’t do anything of value in our home planet, anyway, and you’re virtually useless. If the Ruling Mother wasn’t so kind and generous, she’d have you thrown head-first into the nearest solar flare. I mean, honestly, you’re just—”   
  
Hermione refused to listen to more of her sister’s bullshit and tuned out the rest of her meaningless redundant speech. She’d heard the same things over and over again for years now, and neither of her sisters had any new material to insult her with. Instead, she used her time to think of more productive things—like planning to kill her sister, for instance, using the dagger she’d always made sure was on her person at all times. It was a heated blade, one of the many things she’d stolen from the yearly-visiting Warriors of Light, and it could clean itself every day and erase whatever bodily fluids one might find lingering there. No one knew she had the weapon, and it would be the perfect sharp object to slice through the unblemished dark skin of her sister’s lovely neck.    
  
In the midst of imagining Aeliana’s throat cut open as her golden blood poured out of her pouty lips, Hermione found her hand on top of where her special dagger was hidden beneath the thin fabric of her trousers. It was difficult to hide a weapon underneath the few clothes she chose to wear, but Hermione had found out that with enough resolve, anyone could do almost anything.   
  
She watched as her sister’s mouth continued to move, refusing to listen to the words slipping out of her tongue. After a minute or two of contemplating the matter, Hermione decided not to go ahead with killing her sister. The precious release that came with death did not suit her sister anyway, and she knew that if she were to successfully slit Aeliana’s throat, she would end up losing whatever remained of her freedom. It would be a cowardly way of escaping her engagement, and she very much preferred marrying a Martian to spending the rest of her days trapped in a small cell located in the hottest pits of Venus—however sweet the thought of breaking free from her engagement might sound to her ears.   
  
“If you’re done making a fool of yourself, graciously take your leave,” Hermione cut off her sister’s tirade, rolling her eyes and shooing her away with a careless wave.   
  
When her sister finally left her bedroom, Hermione searched for Martian history books on the fairly-large screen plastered on the wall, suddenly eager to educate herself on their culture, norms, and traditions. Of course, she still felt frustrated and wronged, but it would be embarrassing if she were to appear as a whiny child in front of Martian citizens, wouldn’t it?    
  
Besides, reading was the only way to ease her doubts, and she wouldn’t be able to get anything done by staying frustrated and angry at what was forced upon her. She was getting a little too emotional for her tastes earlier anyway, and she knew it was time for her to regain her composure.   
  
Perhaps she could even find something that she could use to her advantage. Perhaps she could turn this whole situation around and make the marriage work in her favour. Who knew? After all, she’d proven time and time again that the possibilities were endless when she had numerous digital books in her hands.

* * *

Hermione was the last one to step out of the spaceship that was named after her, taking her long skirts in hands as she carefully went down the small steps. When her sandalled feet met Martian ground and her eyes scoured over the endless sea of red rocks on the planet’s surface for the first time, she felt the need to inhale a deep breath to reassure herself before beginning the walk towards her soon-to-be husband’s fortress of a home.   
  
She swallowed her apprehension down her dry throat, the curious gaze of the Martian onlookers prickling her skin. Some of them even stopped just to stare at her, at them, at a bunch of strange-looking women who came from another world. She could feel their questioning eyes lingering on her figure, in particular, seeing as she was the only one dressed differently from the rest of the small Venusian group that accompanied her.   
  
From what she’d gathered from all the Martian books she’d read, authors liked to depict Venusian women as tall, slender, and extremely-beautiful creatures with pale skin and even paler hair who didn’t believe in the concept of shame in nudity. Now that she was seeing actual Martians with her own eyes, she could pinpoint the origin of the incorrect depiction of her people from Martians’ own standards of beauty. For some reason, she’d always imagined Martians as oddly-shaped beings with deep orange complexions, but she was clearly wrong.   
  
Martians, for the most part, had fair skin—their skin and hair were so white that she was sure their entire bodies could be concealed completely if they stood next to snow if it weren’t for the fact that they were so bloody tall. Most of the Martians scattered around her wore thick clothes with strange textures, very unlike them, the Venusians, who could wear nothing and still be incinerated by the heat. An exaggeration, of course, but back home, thin and sheer fabrics—those kinds of clothes that one could simply slip out of—were much more fashion-forward than wearing fur and cuddly boots.   
  
It was quite an intriguing experience to have a chance to simply gawk at a species that was so different from her own, and she, dressed in black robes and face covered by a golden drop veil, suddenly understood why so many Martians were staring at her with confused expressions. They wouldn’t understand the reasoning behind her choice of dress today though; they could not comprehend how a Venusian like her felt the need to dress in mourning colours and jewellery to symbolise the loss of her freedom as an individual and her people’s independence. They were sympathetic to Voldemort’s cause, after all—the High King’s glorified servants. If anything, Martians most likely thought that they were doing good by helping unite the solar system.   
  
As Hermione neared her betrothed’s home, positioned behind the Ruling Mother, her two older sisters, and a few warriors, she noticed instantly that no one of importance seemed to be there, waiting for them at the gates. She’d studied Martian royalty just several hours before she’d landed and there were no garish green robes and silver coronets in sight! Where was the man she was supposed to marry, exactly? Was he scared of her? Was he intimidated by the presence of powerful women in his vicinity?    
  
From what she’d read during the journey, Martian governments mostly remained patriarchal. There were still quite a few women in power in the Red Planet even after numerous seemingly-successful feminist movements. Mars wasn’t the women-hating place she’d initially thought it would be—it was actually just full of privileged men trying to change for the better. If her marriage to Draco Malfoy, a very important man in Martian politics and business industries, came to fruition, perhaps she could influence him to help his planet change for the better a little faster with a little more victories than what was currently happening.   
  
But if her soon-to-be husband couldn’t even be convinced to walk up to his front door to greet her, how could  _ she  _ convince him to do anything?   
  
The Ruling Mother and her two older sisters continued walking inside, unbothered by her betrothed’s absence, but she couldn’t let this issue go easily. Not only was it rude for Draco Malfoy not to meet her at the gates, but his actions could also be taken as a slight towards her and her family, and she did. It was disrespectful of him not to show up, and it was discourteous of his guards to let the Ruing Mother and her daughters walk past the entrance without so much a bow.    
  
With a raised chin and powerful slow steps, she approached the nearest guard. She must make an imposing first impression to let her fiancé and his people know of the power she still grasped even after being taken away from her home.   
  
“Where is Draco Malfoy?” she spoke, fluent in the common tongue of the Martians. At a young age, she’d asked her tutors to teach her the many languages used by other planets, and this was not the first occurrence when her harmless thirst for knowledge became something of use. As she continued to look at the guard’s comically-shocked expression, she silently sent a short ‘thanks’ to her younger self.   
  
“Lord Malfoy is attending an emergency meeting and says he’s sorry for not being able to meet you at this time,” the guard stiffly responded, the words probably rehearsed a hundred times before he’d got it right.   
  
“Make sure he’s here next time.” With that, Hermione inclined her head before finally taking steps to enter the fortress. There was no need to harass a mere worker for her soon-to-be husband’s faults. She was certain that the guard had little cruel intention and was probably just unaware of Venusian bowing customs. Besides, her mind was exhausted from the travels, and she needed to put her head on a pillow before—   
  
“ _ Achasu. _ ”   
  
At the muttered Martian word, Hermione stiffened up and felt rage ravaging through her veins, and she turned back around to the guard who’d said it instantly. She’d come across the word many times during her habitual reading of Martian literature in the ship, and she was well-aware of what the word entailed—it was a sexual slur mostly used against women. It roughly translated to ‘savage with breasts’ in Earthling English and meant to belittle a woman’s independence. The worst part was, it was the same word Martian authors used to call Venusian citizens in general, implying that she and her people were uncivilised creatures in their eyes.   
  
When she stood in front of the guard once again, she didn’t lash out or cry. Instead, she held herself with dignity and self-respect, opting to handle this as calmly as she could, a cold smile on her face.   
  
“You do realise that I am engaged to your lord by decree of High King Voldemort himself, don’t you, sir?” she asked in a falsely sweet tone, hoping she could communicate her anger well enough with her seething gaze. “In a few weeks, I’ll officially be his wife, and in turn, be a woman that you would swear to serve with all your life. I wish that you be more careful with your words next time. On my home planet, we cut off the tongues of those without restraint.”   
  
The guard only glared back, but she knew she had done her job. She’d succeeded in establishing herself in front of so many foreign people, and she was sure that from then on, they would never underestimate her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to try something I've never done before. Although I already finished writing the entire fic, I want to post them separately, so I can finally experience 'updating' for the first time lol. I'll be adding a chapter every two days! Let me know what you guys think of this so far! 
> 
> Paalam for now! ;)


	2. The Red Planet

Watching the sunset every day on Mars was a refreshing experience she hadn’t known she needed. The sky bled different variations of blues, whites, and violets every time the sun went down, and Hermione, since her arrival three Martian days ago, had never missed an opportunity to view the spectacle from her bedroom window.  
  
Martian sunsets were breathtaking, and Hermione swore she would watch the glowing ball of hot plasma sink down into a seamless pit of blues and violets a million times if she could. She’d never seen anything like it on her planet, and it was one of the surprisingly-beautiful things she’d found on Mars—and to her utter shock, there were many things she’d discovered to be beautiful in the Red Planet.  
  
On her home planet, thick yellow and white clouds were ever-present in the day skies, and the force fields that had been erected by ancient Venusians using outdated technology to keep the planet from turning into a literal hell-hole turned the glorious star in which the solar system rotated around into nothing more than a barely-recognizable white dot in the sky. Of course, the sun rose and set every day on Venus, but the sun’s rays never truly managed to pierce through the thick atmosphere, and she’d never been privy to the striking light shows she’d known it could generate through sunrises and sunsets. But the barely-felt existence of the sun on Venus did not only mean a long day and night cycle, but it also created the wide-spread concept of seemingly-endless hours among ordinary Venusian citizens.  
  
Such was not the case here on Mars; here, she felt like her life was shorter, like there was only so much she could do in one day before the skies turned dark again. Because of the Martian twenty-five-hour format, she had to compress all of her hobbies and work in a stress-free and uninterrupted routine.  
  
A vital part of her routine here on Mars was, of course, to watch the sunset as she sat on the windowsill, a plate of Martian delicacies on her lap and a cup of the Martian version of tea in her hand. Most probably, sunset-watching was _the_ most important part of her Martian day because it brought a sense of peace and calmness in her that she was slowly becoming addicted to. That was why interrupting her during this time was something most people should avoid.  
  
Most people included her soon-to-be husband and his servants—one of which was standing in her doorway at this very moment, prattling on about how her betrothed had ‘summoned’ her for dinner whilst she attempted to view the sunset in peace.  
  
“Lord Malfoy has sincerely apologised for his absence for your arrival, and he hoped that he could make it up to you by inviting you to dine with him in the gardens,” the servant repeated, cutting through her romantic musings about the Martian sunset for the umpteenth time since he’d opened the door to her bedroom.  
  
Sighing, she turned away from the precious sunset and placed her food and drink on a nearby table. The sunset had already been ruined by the boy’s squeaky voice, and she should have known that she couldn’t ignore him for very long anyway.  
  
“Is there any way I can decline his invitation?” she asked through gritted teeth. Even as she said the words, a part of herself remained ever curious to meet the elusive Draco Malfoy, and she knew she would end up going to his stupid gardens in the end.  
  
The boy’s eyes widened comically at her words before he shook his head rapidly and frantically. “No, Your Highness. I’m afraid that Lord Malfoy was adamant that you join him in supper.”  
  
Hermione sighed once more before she slowly rose from her seat and stalked towards the door, intent on following the boy to the gardens, so she wouldn’t end up looking like a lost fool. Once she was near enough, she narrowed her eyes at the boy. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go lead the way.”  
  
The servant nodded and turned around, beginning to guide her towards the gardens. As he led her through unfamiliar corridors and what felt like a hundred turns, guilt slowly bubbled up in her chest. She could’ve been a little nicer to the boy, she supposed—the servant was most probably just following orders. She was certain he hadn’t meant to interrupt her daily date with the Martian sunset, and she should’ve acted so horridly towards him.  
  
So when they made their way into the lush gardens and the boy prepared to take his leave, Hermione stopped him with a gentle hand. “Thank you for showing me the way, sir, and I sincerely apologise for my less-than-friendly attitude towards you moments ago.”  
  
Hermione smiled when the boy sputtered to come up with an acceptable response, his face reddening by the minute. She took mercy on him and let him go, not before bowing to him respectfully.  
  
She took a deep breath before letting her eyes flitter around the garden, cautiously walking forward. Her gaze specifically stuck on a strange flower not far from where she was currently standing, a flower that seemed to be larger than her hand. It had an ugly brown colour, but Hermione found herself intrigued nonetheless. There were many things in the garden that she hadn’t seen before—not even on illustrations or books or projections! The inner scholar in her wanted to study each flower and find out everything there was to know about them by herself.  
  
However, before she could convince herself to just pick the flowers and take them into her bedroom—dinner with her betrothed be damned—her eyes finally caught sight of the tall man standing by a table a few steps to her left. As she approached the man, Hermione took time in studying his features.  
  
Like most Martians, he had an extremely-pale complexion, and his strange white hair seemed to gleam under the setting sun. But there was something quite different about him. To her, at least, his skin and hair colour seemed to look more alive than ordinary Martians’, and there was no denying the way he carried himself with pride and arrogance. He clearly thought himself to the highest regard, and Hermione wasn’t yet sure how to feel about that.  
  
She recognised him, of course. She must’ve looked up his name on her computer a million times before she’d landed on Mars. None of those pictures could compare the real deal, however, and she couldn’t help but admit that Draco Malfoy was a very attractive specimen. Even in his garish green robes, he was undeniably handsome.  
  
“Good evening,” he greeted in Earthling English, a picture-perfect smile on his face. “I hope this dinner would be enough apology for my failure to greet you when you first arrived.”  
  
Was it a stupid thing for her to say that the entire garden seemed to brighten up as soon as he smiled at her? Because she was pretty sure it did.  
  
Remembering herself, Hermione shuffled to get on her knees, bowing her entire upper body until her forehead touched the soft earth, her right palm pressed against her heart. It was a traditional Venusian bow that was meant to be done by lovers in a more formal setting—like coronations, dances, and festivals. It was meant to symbolise mutual respect and equal footing within the relationship. She knew that Draco Malfoy might not understand her actions, but Venusian customs and traditions were two things she wished to represent in whatever planet she ended up in.  
  
She shut her eyes, waiting for Draco Malfoy’s response. Expecting a command or a flustered comment, Hermione’s head snapped back up in surprise when she heard his clothes shuffling as he went down on his knees as well. Bewildered, she watched as her soon-to-be husband copied her previous movements and successfully bowed to her, confirming her status as his equal. Huh, so it seemed that he was knowledgeable of her culture as well or, at the very least, had familiarised himself with the many Venusian bows.  
  
Awkwardly, she cleared her throat and sat back on her knees, reaching for his hands and taking them before they rose to their feet together. Having a male’s hands in hers was a very strange yet not unpleasant feeling. His pale hands were much larger than hers, his fingers thicker, and his palms rougher. For an unknown reason that made her let go of his hands hurriedly, she felt the desperate urge to intertwine her fingers with his and clutch his hands as though they were her lifeline.  
  
But Draco Malfoy grabbed her right hand again and proceeded to do something strange—he lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a single kiss on the ring he’d sent to her as a gift the night before. The gesture was a Martian custom, and she’d read that the proper response to this as a woman would be to bob a curtsy and very slightly bow her head—and that was exactly what she did.  
  
When she rose from her curtsy, she caught a glimpse of another bedazzling smile on his face. This time, the smile made pleasant tingles spread across her body. Feeling her face heat up, she looked away, silently cursing herself for not preparing her brain for such an arresting male. Before, she’d thought men were large, monster-like creatures who had sharp teeth and even sharper claws. Before, she never could’ve imagined someone who looked like Draco Malfoy as an acceptable man.  
  
“Let’s take a seat, shall we?” he offered charmingly, letting her hand go. It was infuriating to be with someone as carelessly-charismatic as him.  
  
Attempting to regain her composure, she raised her chin and nodded once, all the while adjusting the golden veil she wore over her face. She reached out a hand to pull her chair out, but Draco Malfoy did it before she could. He gestured for her to sit, and she did; she would let him do the chivalrous Martian things he was required to do. For now, at least.  
  
When they were both settled into their chairs, Draco Malfoy pulled out a remote control and pressed a single button on it. A few seconds later, a small robot with an ordinary apron tied around its body flew around their heads before coming to a stop on Draco’s shoulder.  
  
“What would you like to eat?” asked Draco, still speaking in Earthling English for some reason. He must not know of her fluency in his mother tongue, and for some reason, she would like to keep him in the dark. “Little Dobby here can cook a mean Venusian platter if you like.”  
  
At the mention of food from home, Hermione’s stomach grumbled. “I would like that very much.”  
  
He nodded and pressed a couple of buttons on his remote before ‘Little Dobby’ flew off. Then, he hid the remote and turned all his attention on her, an easy smile slipping into his face once again. “Alright, so we’re going to have a Venusian dinner.”  
  
“Would it be made from actual Venusian foods?” she questioned in a clipped yet polite tone. “I’m aware that the Ruling Mother has finally begun trading with other planets after the High King’s successful conquest, but I’m not sure if the livestock and produce have already made their way here.”  
  
“Unfortunately, no,” responded Draco, slightly frowning. Vaguely, she noted how he spoke his vowels with an accent. “The Ruling Mother and the High King have yet to finalise a few documents, so Dobby might just have to deal with remaking traditional Venusian dishes from Martian ingredients.”  
  
She nodded. “It would be good to try Venusian dinner with a Martian twist, I suppose.”  
  
“I hope your first visit to another planet is going well so far.”  
  
“It is,” she said, letting out a small courteous smile. “I love watching the sunsets here. They’re quite magical.”  
  
“I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance to watch it today. I didn’t realise that you’ve taken quite the liking to the Martian skies.”  
  
“It’s alright.” In truth, she was still a tad bit cross with him for prying her away from her daily view of the Martian sunset.  
  
“And I truly hope that you forgive me for missing your arrival three days ago,” he continued, looking genuinely-concerned for some reason. “The High King called, and I couldn’t very well reject him.”  
  
That was the point in their conversation when Hermione remembered that her soon-to-be husband, no matter how attractive he looked or how nicely he acted towards her, was still a loyal Voldemort follower. Before the current High King had decided to take over the solar system, his ancestors had only managed to colonise two planets—Mars and Mercury. Those two planets ended up supporting Voldemort in his conquest, and with their combined forces, they had easily taken down the gas planets and forced Venus to surrender.  
  
Draco Malfoy’s father was a prominent man in all the battles that had occurred, and she suddenly felt the need to wonder if he himself had participated in the slaughter.  
  
“I understand,” she lied, hoping her face could show the kindness she wanted to express towards him. “This dinner is more than enough to make up for your initial absence.”  
  
When he smiled the softest of smiles at her words, her heartbeat began to spike, but this time, she was courageous enough to continue looking him in the eye, to continue examining his features, and to continue trying to find the thing that was so special about him that caused her knees to weaken.  
  
She took in his silver eyes, his light-coloured lashes and brows, his pointed nose, his pink lips, and the sharp cuts of his bone structure and just revelled in his appearance.  
  
But despite her keen observation, the only thing she’d realised was the smallest hint of effeminate touches on his features, as though his face was carved by some sort of female sculptor. And suddenly, she found herself curious to find out more about his more-feminine parts.  
  
Perhaps that was the reason why she found him so attractive—because of the perfect mixture of masculinity and femininity in his features.  
  
“Are you required to wear your crown all the time?” Draco’s voice cut through her thoughts.  
  
She blinked a few times, as though pulling herself back to reality. Before she spoke, she cleared her throat. “No. As the mere third daughter of the Ruling Mother, I’m not even entitled to wear a crown at all.”  
  
Draco frowned. “But… my guards have reported seeing you wearing the same ensemble ever since you arrived.”  
  
“The crown is part of the royal mourning robes,” she blurted out, sighing when she realised what she’d just said. “And yes, this _ensemble_ your guards have seen me wearing all the time is what’s considered to be mourning clothing on Venus.”  
  
His eyes trailed over her form, lingering on her gold accessories. “Forgive me. I wasn’t aware that you lost someone close to you recently.”  
  
She couldn’t help the sad smile that spread across her lips. “It wasn’t _someone_ I lost.”  
  
“Then, what is it that you’re mourning?”  
  
Hermione stared deeply into his grey eyes as the lie easily slipped out of her tongue. “I’m sorry. I’m not yet comfortable communicating my loss to others.”  
  
He reached out his hands to grasp hers on the table, and she watched as he let their fingers intertwine in a strangely-intimate manner. She wondered if this small gesture was his attempt to comfort her. “I completely understand. It was my fault anyway for prying.”  
  
“No worries.”  
  
They were interrupted by a swarm of small flying robots, carrying a variety of food on their heads. Gentler than she’d thought a robot could be capable of, the dishes were placed on the table. The robots flew away as quickly as they came, and she only began to pick up her utensils shortly after Draco did so, pulling her veil up, so she could eat properly.  
  
It was a small pleasure to find out that her soon-to-be husband was polite enough not to chew loudly or talk with his mouth full. He only decided to continue their conversation after he’d swallowed the food, thankfully.  
  
“Are you ready for our takeoff tomorrow?”  
  
She glanced up from her plate to his face, confused. “Pardon me?”  
  
Draco frowned as well. “I was asking if you’re done preparing for our flight to Earth tomorrow.”  
  
“What?” She dropped her utensils in shock, wincing as they landed loudly on her plate. She hadn’t been informed of future travels to another planet with her betrothed! And she hadn’t expected to go away so soon after her initial arrival on Mars!  
  
“Didn’t the Ruling Mother tell you that the High King requested for the engaged interplanetary couples to get married on Earth? So he can be a first-hand witness to the weddings?” Draco Malfoy looked as genuinely perplexed as she’d felt, but she found herself too blinded by the red-hot rage that overcame her vision to notice.  
  
Outraged, Hermione shot up from her seat and slammed a fist on the table. “What do you mean we’re getting married on Earth?”  
  
Draco began to scowl as their previously-polite conversation ebbed away. “Exactly that.”  
  
She growled in frustration. “So you take me away from my home and send me here to adjust to my new surroundings, only for you to tell me we’re going to have to go to another planet tomorrow?”  
  
“Yes,” he hissed, irritation flashing in his silver gaze as he glared up at her. “I just said that!”  
  
“Why was I never told of this vital information?”  
  
Seemingly tired of looking up at her and feeling inferior, Draco Malfoy stood up as well, forcing her to be the one raising her head and leering up at him. Curse his bloody height! All her attempts to look intimidating ultimately failed when she realised that the top of her head could only reach up to the middle part of his breastbone at best. “I don’t know! Your incompetent Ruling Mother should have been the one to provide to you all information regarding the marriage _she_ helped to arrange!”  
  
“Don’t you speak ill of the Ruling Mother!” she shouted. He had no right as a foreigner male to speak of the Ruling Mother’s incompetency when he hadn’t even experienced half of it. “If you asked me to dine with you on a much earlier date, then perhaps you could’ve let me know then!”  
  
“So it’s _my_ fault now?”  
  
“Yes! I should’ve known you were the type to withhold that kind of information from me after you didn’t even make an effort to greet me at your gates three days ago!”  
  
“You just said earlier that this dinner is more than enough to make up for that!”  
  
“I was being polite!”  
  
“Well, go back to being polite then! The sensible woman I was talking to earlier was much better company than this!”  
  
She poked him in the chest with one angry finger. “I don’t care about being a good company for you when you don’t even have the gall to tell me earlier that we’re going to bloody Earth for some reason!”  
  
His lips thinned, and his face inched closer to hers. “How is it my fault when you don’t know something?”  
  
“It becomes your fault when you fail to mention it much earlier than the night before our supposed departure!”  
  
“Why are you so angry about this anyway? We’re just going to Earth for a few weeks. I don’t understand how—”  
  
“Has it ever occur to you that I didn’t like being taken away from my home to go here on this stupid planet full of stupid Voldemort supporters, let alone go to the planet that actually birthed that idiotic human in the first place?” Amid her aggravation, she hadn’t even noticed the slip of the High King’s name on her tongue.  
  
It wasn’t that she held a particular grudge for planet Earth. The only thing she was wary of was Earth’s population and the possibility of all humans turning out to be as gruesome as Voldemort. What if they were all as eager to own every single thing in the galaxy as the High King? What if they also held very little regard for other planetary cultures and think of her as another pawn in the night sky for humans to play with when they got bored with their planet?  
  
“You didn’t want to get married and live on another planet—so what? I didn’t have a bloody choice, too! Do you really think I would want to marry someone like you?”  
  
Hermione gasped. She couldn’t believe him! He was the one who wiped Voldemort’s arse daily, and he was the one complaining that she was his future wife? She who was a well-bred Venusian princess, she who’d been told several times of her otherworldly beauty and intelligence, and she who could easily pick up the knife she’d dropped on her plate and stab the sharp end into his pulse points?  
  
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d wondered how a Martian would bleed. Would the seeping liquid from the wound she wanted to cause on Draco Malfoy’s pretty white skin be as glittery and silvery as his eyes? There was only one way to find out, but even in her furious state, she wasn’t willing to take that chance. She had an inkling where she would end up if she murdered Lord Draco Malfoy, and she wasn’t sure if prison was worth it yet.  
  
“I’m not going to Earth,” she declared instead, crossing her arms above her chest. “You’re not going to take me to those human monsters who almost killed their planet only one thousand years ago!”  
  
“We don’t have a choice in the matter,” he growled, his handsome face contorting to accommodate an ugly sneer. “We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, and that’s final.”  
  
She glared back at his determined eyes, realising that she couldn’t fight this particular battle and expect to win. Begrudgingly agreeing to give in to defeat, Hermione pushed her chair backwards until there was enough space for her to walk off of. With shaking fingers, she put her veil back into place. She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and raised her chin before slipping back into the polite facade she’d mastered a long time ago.  
  
“I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite to continue dining with you, Lord Malfoy,” she coldly stated. “I hope you understand my urge to rest early to prepare myself for our departure tomorrow.”  
  
She didn’t wait for a response, bobbing a rigid curtsy for him as soon as the last word left her lips before strolling away from the table.

* * *

“I read up on Venusian death customs last night,” Malfoy spoke up from behind her, startling her out of her thoughts, “and the book said that you are only required to wear mourning colours for two days.”  
  
With an exaggerated sigh, Hermione turned around to greet her soon-to-be husband with a warm smile—the warmest smile she could muster for his icy soul. “Good afternoon to you as well, Lord Malfoy. After you failed to show up on my first day here, I thought that you would’ve done your best to arrive as early as possible now that we’re leaving for Earth, but, of course, you prove me wrong.”  
  
“Why are you still wearing mourning robes?” Malfoy persisted, ignoring her statement. She hated how easy it was for him to brush off her words like they meant nothing. For a woman who was desperate to be heard, the one thing she’d hated most was being ignored.  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him, refusing to give him an answer until he’d responded to her question. “Why are you late?”  
  
For a few seconds, he only glared down at her, and Hermione realised that when Draco was angry, it showed up as shards of ice in his grey eyes. His fury was ice-cold, and hers was fiery-hot. His would make another’s entire body freeze upon contact while hers burned through souls and caused wildfires everywhere. Their eyes meeting resembled a messy war zone, and this small battle was one she was desperate to win after her defeat the night before.  
  
Triumph rushed through her veins when Draco looked away from their stare-down first, and she had to fight the smirk that threatened to break out of her lips.  
  
“I was tending to an issue brought up by my guards,” he stiffly answered her question, choosing to set his gaze somewhere behind her. “If I could come here first thing in the morning, I would’ve, but as you can see, I’m a very busy man.”  
  
She didn’t even bother hiding her eye-roll at his generic answer. “I’m sure you are.”  
  
“So why are you still wearing mourning robes?” he pressed on, finally peering at her.  
  
At his question, Hermione stiffened. Was he prepared for her answer?  
  
“I’ve chosen to wear black and gold before our wedding for a reason,” she started. “I’ve lost things I’m not sure I’ll be able to take back, and I feel as though mourning for them is the only thing I can do on another planet to pay tribute to my loss.”  
  
“And what did you lose?”  
  
Hermione chose to set her gaze on his chest as she spoke, bitter melancholy in her tone. “The independence of my people and… my freedom. I’m afraid they’re both slowly being taken away by strange foreign men.”  
  
Wearing mourning clothes was also her way of expressing her culture without fear of being exoticised. Had she been draped in her everyday Venusian clothing, she would’ve been looked at and singled out by lusty Martians who she feared might have little self-control. She understood that things on Venus and Mars were different, and what might be normal for her back home was extremely taboo here on another planet. She wasn’t blind, after all; she had seen the lingering eyes on the Ruling Mother and her sisters whenever they’d walk by. Perhaps after their wedding, after she was sealed to a Martian male, she could wear her Venusian clothes without being frowned and lusted upon by others.  
  
When she was brave enough to look Draco in the eye again, she was taken aback by the cold glare he directed towards her. Was there something she’d—  
  
“So you think I’m stealing your freedom away from you? You think that being married to me automatically means losing your free will, is that it?” he spat. She noted how he had a strange habit of putting his face closer to someone whenever he was irritated.  
  
Ignited by his furious tone, a wildfire of rage erupted inside her. “Of course, it does! I’m the one who’s being forced into this stupid marriage! I’m the one who has to migrate to another planet, for Kromelia’s sake! I’m the one whose home is being invaded by men for the first time in a million years! I’m losing everything here, and you—”  
  
“You think I wanted this?” he cut off, enraged. “I was perfectly fine with living the rest of my life without any of this marriage shit!”  
  
“Then, why didn’t you say no to Voldemort?” she exclaimed. “If you hate this as much as I do, why don’t we just forget this whole engagement thing ever happened and just go back to our normal—”  
  
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”  
  
That was enough for her hot head to release steam. Her vision turned bright red, and it had nothing to do with the pinkish tint of the Martian day sky. Her hands clenched into fists, and she was two Martian seconds away from punching the ugly sneer off of his face when someone from the spaceship called out, “We’re taking off in two hours!”  
  
The words were enough to pull her back to a reality that wasn’t full of blinding rage, and she quickly composed herself, shutting her eyes for a short moment, inhaling a long breath, and exhaling it all out. She turned to face the ship before she opened her eyes, not wanting to look at the infuriating man she was supposed to marry.  
  
She rushed towards the ship with hurried steps, and once she was inside, she headed to her designated sleeping quarters immediately.  
  
There, she distracted herself from the ever-burning anger inside her by looking up pictures of the third closest planet to the sun. Half-way through the several images of tantalisingly-blue oceans and massive rock formations that could only be found on Earth, she forgot about what made her angry and was instead intrigued by the undeserving beauty of Venus’s so-called sister planet.

Suddenly, she longed to see Earth’s beauty with her own eyes. Perhaps she’d even like the sunsets better there than on Mars. Perhaps the planet would turn out to be so beautiful in real life that she could make a home out of it. But if she were to be honest with herself, neither sounded very likely to her ears.

* * *

Hermione was unable to fall asleep. Whether it was because of the occasional beeping sounds from the spaceship automatically checking itself every three Martian minutes or the cold metal plate that was supposed to be her bed or the unending footsteps passing by her door—she didn’t really know the reason for her insomnia any longer. All she knew was she needed to sleep and that she was unable to do so.  
  
At the moment, her eyes were screwed shut as she lay on her back, facing the ceiling. The constant humming that continued to vibrate across the walls of the spaceship as they moved towards Earth should act as a dull lullaby to help put her in deep slumber, but it only succeeded in making her more restless than ever. Venusian spaceships were certainly way quieter than this one—here, it seemed like there was a different type of sound making itself known to her ears every time a minute passed.  
  
Clenching her jaw, she turned to her side for the millionth time that night. She clutched a pillow into her chest, wrapping her limbs around the soft material and practically doing everything that was supposed to make her feel more comfortable—but absolutely nothing worked. She simply could not relax and sleep!  
  
With a frustrated growl, she opened her eyes and sat up. She swung her legs over the ‘bed’ and felt a wave of relief wash over her entire body as her bare feet touched the cold floor. She wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon, but that didn’t mean she had to stay in the tight spaces of her designated room the whole night.  
  
There had to be something she could do outside her bedroom, something much more interesting than forcing herself to sleep. Yes, a midnight stroll around the spaceship sounded like a good idea. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to find out what other differences were there between Martian and Venusian spacecraft.  
  
Her bedroom doors swished open, making a louder noise than necessary, and she carefully tiptoed out into the cramped hallway.  
  
When she’d observed the Martian spaceship before her unfortunate less-than-friendly discussion with her betrothed yesterday, the first thing she’d noticed was its minimalistic design. The entire spaceship from the outside was painted white, not even a scratch or any form of writing on the surface.  
  
The inside, like the very hallway she now stood on, was surprisingly dim and dull. The dimmed lighting of the hallway wasn’t a result of poor distribution of bulbs though. Apparently, the blue-coloured lights were a part of the design. In Hermione’s opinion, all the different neon lights inside the ship just made the place look more like the tacky whorehouses near her childhood home than whatever statement the architect had wanted to say with the spaceship’s awful design.  
  
An ordinary Martian spaceship was also significantly bigger than a Venusian one. It could also hold up to twenty-five Martians as opposed to the eight-person limit most Venusian spacecraft had. But then again, Martians actually had a reason to build spaceships and have twenty-five people in it; an ordinary Martian citizen could travel across galaxies, provided they had the proper documents, but Venusians, up until very recently, was closed off to the rest of the solar system. Space travel had only been achievable through dreams on Venus, and she supposed she was lucky to have the opportunity to ride on, not one, but two spaceships in the course of her lifetime—so far, at the very least. Perhaps once they were married, she could convince Malfoy to take her to other planets and get on other spaceships.  
  
She frowned as the thought flew across her head. She didn’t think she had even swallowed the very idea of marrying Malfoy yet—let alone the concept of willingly travelling with him. And he was the last living creature she’d want to travel with anyway! He was simply the foulest and most arrogant git she’d ever met!  
  
Her frown deepened as she made yet another turn. It felt like she’d been walking through the same hallway for hours now, and with so many twists and turns she’d just made, she wouldn’t be surprised if the hallway turned out not to have an end at all.  
  
But after another left turn, she soon caught sight of it. It turned out that the end to the hallway came in the form of large double doors made out of what looked to be some sort of Earthling wood. When she was finally in front of the double doors, Hermione only allowed herself to hesitate for three nervous taps of her left foot before deciding to push open the entrance and step inside.  
  
Strangely enough, when she let go of the doors, the wood made no sound as it shut closed—but she had no time to process the strange occurrence, not when her eyes practically bulged out of her sockets at the sight of countless tall shelves filled with actual, paperback and hardbound, thick and thin, old and new books!  
  
In all honesty, an old-fashioned library full of books collected across the solar system was Hermione’s version of paradise.  
  
Unable to repress the girlish squeal that slipped out of her throat, she ran for the shelves. Literally. Her hands up in the air as she sped across the room and all.  
  
Kromelia, the scent! Just sniffing the unique scent of _physical_ book pages was enough for her brain to release dopamine! And when she looked around the shelves, her eyes flitting about the unbelievable book titles, she swore she almost cried.  
  
She had to be dreaming. There was no way the Neptunian history books in front of her was real, and she had to wake herself up before she could hurt her feelings.  
  
A hand of hers reached out to touch one of the spines, and the rough texture of the cover was enough to assure her of the fact that everything—every single book around her right now—was, in fact, very real.  
  
Another excited squeak peeped out of her throat. Oh Kromelia, she couldn’t wait any longer to get her eyes on these books!  
  
So she didn’t waste any more time and got started on picking the books she would like to read the most. In the end, she decided to choose one book per aisle, trying to hold up all books she’d picked in her arms to take them all in her quarters. She didn’t feel too comfortable overstaying in a room she knew she wasn’t supposed to be in, and it was ultimately better to stay up late in her bedroom, stuffing her face in informative non-fiction books about the other planets.  
  
Needless to say, she only made three steps before the stack of books in her arms toppled over, causing her to stumble and fall into the scattered books on the floor.  
  
“ _Tigna,_ ” she cursed when she saw one of the precious books’ cover ripped apart from the fall, rushing to take the poor piece of literature into her hands and undo the damage somehow, but as she leaned forward to grab the book, her knee slipped from another book it was balancing on, and she tripped again, her face almost about to hit the ground when she used one of her hands to hold herself up.  
  
But instead of having her face up and safe, her hand pressed deeper into the floor—as though it was a large button on the floor—and her cheek promptly landed on the floor. As soon as the floor ‘malfunctioned’, she heard something open from the wall behind her.  
  
At the unexpected sound, Hermione sat up instantly, turning her head to see what was going on. Her eyes widened when, instead of a plain white wall decorated with blue lights, she saw a hole—an entrance, to be specific, but to where?  
  
Too caught up in her curiosity, Hermione slowly rose to her feet and approached the entrance that was seemingly induced by her fall. She stepped in, apprehension pulsing in her throat, and immediately saw a door, lit by dim red lighting, to her left. Faintly, she heard male voices coming from behind the door.  
  
The spaceship was definitely bigger than she’d originally thought.  
  
Making her footfalls as light as possible, she got closer to the door, and the nearer she got, the louder the voices became. She stopped when she was in front of the door and pressed her ear against it to hear _more_ . There was a slit on the upper part of the door, but there was no way for her to reach obvious Martian standards of average height, so she settled for eavesdropping—too curious to acknowledge her manners.  
  
“No, we can’t make a move yet.” Hermione almost let out a loud gasp when she recognised the deep, lazy drawl of her soon-to-be husband. They were speaking in the common tongue of the Martians, but she understood every word. Why was he in there? What was he hiding?  
  
Another man groaned. “I’m tired of bloody waiting. We’re already heading to Earth, why can’t we just—”  
  
“No!” Draco’s voice felt like another powerful entity on its own, sending noticeable vibrations to the door she pressed her ear against and igniting heat in her abdomen. “We have a very specific plan. I’ve gone through this so many times already, and you still won’t get it! First, we build our army. We need to gather allies from all planets until the entire solar system is against him. Right now, we still need to convince the gas planets except for Uranus and Mercury to fight with us.”  
  
“How did you get the Venusians to jump with you?” a new voice asked.  
  
At that, she heard her betrothed let out a bitter chuckle. “I have to marry one of their stuck-up princesses, that’s how.”  
  
The initial irritation she’d felt at his words dissipated when confusion took over her mind once more. She still didn't understand exactly what they were planning, but her intuition told her that her soon-to-be husband was about to change the history of the galaxy very soon. And what did he mean by being forced to marry her to get her planet’s favour?  
  
“I’m sure when you’re the High King, you can get a nicer wife.”  
  
Ignoring the slight against her, more questions plagued her mind. Had Voldemort named Draco Malfoy as his heir or something? How could there be a possibility of him becoming the High King otherwise?  
  
Unless they were planning to overthrow Voldemort, but they wouldn’t do that, would they? The Martians had been the human’s closest allies for centuries—they couldn’t very well betray that trust just to end Voldemort’s reign, right?  
  
“No,” Draco stated, quietly this time. “I don’t care about having a nice wife. What I want is to kill that useless fucking human and take everything he’s ever known. When I sit on his stupid throne and wear his dumb crown, I want to look at his dying eyes and let him know how better of a ruler I will be than he can ever dream of.”  
  
Hermione’s hands automatically flew to her mouth to cover her shocked gasp. Her betrothed’s words confirmed her suspicions. Draco Malfoy wasn’t the boot-licking Martian she’d initially thought him to be—he had enormous plans of stabbing Voldemort in the back and taking his throne after he did so. And they all sounded so sure, so certain of the unpredictable future, as though the tides were always going to be in their favour, as though they would never get caught and get killed for treason!  
  
She was going to marry a traitor—and the thing was, she didn’t even know if that fact made everything better or worse.  
  
Not wanting to mull the matter over in a place where she could easily get caught, Hermione ran off from her spot, out of the secret passageway, and out of the library she’d only moments ago thought was paradise. She didn’t even bother trying to hide her tracks, fixing the fallen books, or closing the doors to the library. She was far too distracted by the new knowledge she’d just acquired.  
  
When she arrived in her sleeping quarters, she found herself out of breath and with a palpitating heart, but too focused on what just occurred to even notice her undignified and messy emotions.  
  
To say that she felt more awake than she’d ever been before she left would be a gross understatement.  
  
That night, Hermione didn’t sleep a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic came from the song 'Venus' by Sleeping At Last. I honestly just picked it because I thought it sounded good enough as a title lol. What did you guys think of this chapter? Don't be afraid to comment down below!
> 
> Paalam for now! ;)
> 
> P.S. I just realized that I totally lied last chapter wtf. I totally forgot the fact that I have written a fic with several chapters before and updated them on different days, but that was before I considered my writing to be 'good'. Not that it's good now, but... you get the point lol. My memory is, frankly, shit.


	3. Terra

The first time Hermione stepped on Earth grounds, she did so with a rehearsed smile hanging about her lips and a hand wrapped around Draco Malfoy’s forearm—because holding on to his bicep would look utterly ridiculous with his abnormally-tall self and whatnot.    
  
She was not holding on to him for support or protection, and he wasn’t letting her hang off his arm because he was concerned—they were only forced to walk abreast as soon as they arrived at Earth by High King Voldemort who wanted to make a spectacle out of their appearance. A Venusian princess arm-in-arm with a Martian high-born was a never-before-seen picture, after all, and it only went to show how powerful the High King truly was, having the ability to coerce Venusian women out of their haven and to bind one of them to an irreversible marriage with one of his Martian arse-lickers. Of course, she’d only found out recently that her soon-to-be husband was not as loyal to Voldemort’s cause as he appeared to be, but that wasn’t the point.   
  
The point was, it was utterly obvious to her that Voldemort only put them through this, so he could flaunt his most boast-worthy couple in front of other, inferior, members of his species.   
  
Unlike her landing on Mars, she and Draco were the first to climb off the ship—as was requested by the High King cunt-face himself—and the first to be paraded in front of so many brainless humans. The faux, appreciative grins on both of their faces reassured the Earthlings that the two of them were nothing but their leader’s pawns, that no matter how powerful they were, they would still crumble under the force of Voldemort’s regime.    
  
From what she’d read about humans, she’d gathered that they loved to claim things that had been there for millions of years as their own because they always seemed to think that they were the superior species, that they were the ones others needed, and that they, more than any other species in the solar system, deserved to live.    
  
Glancing around the hundreds of humans that had gathered just to see them enter Voldemort’s palace, she wondered if all of them were thinking the same thing, if they thought of space and matter, of the countless galaxies and the span of the universe, of the stars and planets as mere belongings. Was Hermione nothing but an unknown creature they would love to prod and examine? Would they dissect her, cut her open to figure out what her insides looked like, and see more of her physical biology that answered all their speculations than the actual life she’d lived, the real memories she’d made, and the real emotions she’d felt?   
  
In Hermione’s opinion, Earthlings simply did not deserve to live on their planet. It was such a shame that a planet as majestic as Earth was home to these intelligent yet severely-flawed creatures. It was clear to her that humans were undeserving of Earth’s breathtaking blue skies, rich landscapes, and diverse temperatures—especially since they had almost succeeded in depleting the planet of its life forms and natural resources only one thousand years ago.   
  
If her people lived on Earth, they would make sure all forms of life would flourish, and she would see to it that everything and everyone would be protected from both internal and external dangers. She didn’t understand—how could anyone risk losing this paradisiacal planet?   
  
She would never be able to understand humanity’s selfish deeds, she supposed, not that she had never sought to do so—she would rather read about Earth’s geographical history than the several wars and disasters caused by the many mistakes that made up humanity today.   
  
Instead of dwelling on the matter further, Hermione shut her eyes and shortly took a deep breath to cleanse her mind of all attempts of figuring out Earth and its inhabitants. Deciding to focus on the situation at hand, she once again put up a blinding smile for all the people to see.   
  
As they neared the palace’s grand entrance, Hermione once again found herself disappointed when the man she’d expected to see there, waiting to greet them, was nowhere to be found. She wondered what was Voldemort’s excuse for not greeting them. Would it be as mundane as Draco’s? Did both Voldemort and Draco see themselves as big and important men who had too many duties to even spare a minute or two to meet their guests at their gates?   
  
If  _ she  _ were to become a ruler or a leader of sorts—or at least someone who held authority over others—Hermione swore to be better than both Voldemort and Draco. She would greet every guest and let them in her home with utter respect, so they knew how willing she was to waste time in their presence.    
  
She thought about Draco’s plan to take Voldemort’s throne. Perhaps she could have a plan of her own. If she revealed to her betrothed that she knew of his plans, she could use the knowledge to her advantage—she could have one of the most powerful men in Mars playing about her fingers, and everyone would be none the wiser. She could manipulate him, perhaps even kill him once he was no longer of use to her, and at the end of it all, she could be the one to snatch Voldemort’s throne. She could be the one who ruled over the solar system.   
  
With cautious eyes, Hermione glanced up at Draco’s face, seeing his brilliant smile and his relaxed expression. Truth be told, he might just be the most handsome male she’d ever seen. His allure seemed to belong somewhere above even the night sky, and a part of her knew that the face he had was one of a kind.    
  
They stopped just before they could enter the palace, and she watched as Draco turned around to face the people and raise a hand, waving it side-to-side. As he waved ‘hello’, the surrounding humans cheered even louder, the sound reminding Hermione of the roar of a formidable warrior from Venus that had claimed to fight for her and her only. Now, she understood the great number of Earthlings who came to see them simply walk up to the palace; humans adored Draco Malfoy—some were so infatuated with him that they collapsed in exhilaration when her soon-to-be husband blew them a kiss.   
  
There would be a lot of people who would be angry if she killed her betrothed, and a ruler who was hated was no ruler at all. If she managed to have a knife stuck in Malfoy’s chest, she would only have a few Earthling hours before she, too, was found dead.    
  
That was enough to convince her not to go along with her admittedly-unwise plan. Besides, Draco Malfoy seemed to be too beautiful of a specimen to die a horrendous death at a young age, and she was far too intrigued by the man and his deceptive intentions to kill him anyway—even if he was a pretentious git, she remained undecided on his morality. Was he doing the right thing by betraying his King? Or was he nothing more than disloyal scum under her boots?   
  
She still couldn’t figure him out, but now that she knew his secret, she was suddenly desperate to get to know him better.   
  
When Draco finally noticed her staring, an automatic scowl settled on his lips, and he looked down at her with his narrowed grey eyes that made her cheeks heat up for some reason. He lowered his head enough for his lips to brush against her ear, causing her limbs to freeze in place and her heart to turn into an uncontrollable stampede.   
  
His breath against the shell of her ear was a new kind of delight she hadn’t known existed, and it made her shiver. It wasn’t even remotely cold, for Kromelia’s sake! Why was she—   
  
“What are you looking at?” he quietly yet vindictively asked in her ear.   
  
Truthfully, he would be much more attractive if he didn’t open his mouth. With an irritated scowl of her own, Hermione pushed him back to his full height and out of her personal space, her face heating up in mild anger this time.   
  
“I’m just trying to find what those humans adore so much about you,” she said, venom in her voice. “Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were blind and unable to see your hideous features and grotesque personality.”   
  
He let out a soft annoyed growl, grabbing her hand that was on his arm. Petrified by the feel of his large fingers practically engulfing her own, Hermione almost didn’t notice when he used his hold on her to drag her inside the palace.   
  
She snatched her hand from his grip once they were out of public sight and once she got a hold of herself, brushing off invisible lint of the Martian skirt he’d forced her to wear before they’d landed. Before he could speak, she turned away from him and walked off in the opposite direction, knowing very well that she was most likely going the wrong way.    
  
It didn’t matter though. She needed to get away from her soon-to-be husband. She needed to arrange her thoughts and figure out what she was going to do about Draco. Should she kill him? Blackmail him? Use her knowledge of his traitorous plan to gain leverage, force him to touch her with his big hands more often, and—   
  
She was also quite eager to see more of this Earthling palace and suddenly felt the need to explore immediately.

* * *

Voldemort looked nothing like she’d thought he would. Without the extravagant crown on his head, Hermione would’ve assumed that he was just another Earthling. He looked disappointingly normal, not at all like the monstrous creature she’d thought he was.    
  
He was slender and tall, taller than the average human but still shorter than Draco. His black hair was perfectly-coiffed on top of his normal-sized head. His complexion was several shades lighter than hers, but he didn’t look as ghostly-white as most Martians. High King Voldemort was thoroughly human to the core.    
  
There was something off about him though. Every time he sent a smile at her direction, she felt the need to grasp for the weapon hiding under her skirts. His eyes were abyss-like, a pit of never-ending darkness. Whenever she would say something that seemed to be incorrect by his standards, he would leer at her for an unbearably-long time, his thin lips curving upwards in a spine-chilling smile.   
  
Dinner with the High King felt more like torture to Hermione, and they weren’t even half-way done with the first course yet! And it didn’t help that her appetite left as soon as Voldemort’s beaded eyes settled on her when she’d first entered the room, causing her to eat very little and slowly.   
  
“So, tell me, are you two elated for your upcoming nuptials?” Voldemort questioned, the creepy smile on his face never waning.    
  
Hermione glanced at her betrothed, awaiting his response. To her surprise, Draco met her gaze, pretend affection swirling around his eyes, and gave her the softest of smiles—a smile that she would’ve thought as genuine if she didn’t know any better. “Hermione is simply the most bewitching woman I’ve ever met, and to be honest, my lord, I regret that we’re not getting married soon enough.”   
  
Her heartbeat quickened at his words, and she felt her cheeks heating the longer he stared at her.    
  
The one thing she couldn’t help but admire Draco Malfoy for was his expertise in the art of lying. Ever since they’d entered the room, arm-in-arm, Voldemort had asked them infuriating questions that undoubtedly stroked his ego, and Draco had never failed to say the exact words his King wanted to hear. The lies slipped off his tongue easily, and his expressions always seemed genuine, but, of course, he was not the only one in their relationship who was a master pretender. She’d spent years in Venusian court playing whatever role was given to her by others, and she prided herself on being a better actor than her future husband could ever hope to be.   
  
Not wanting to be outdone, she thought quickly and came up with the role she’d wanted to portray today. Earlier, she’d already established her respect for human culture by impressing Voldemort with her knowledge of his traditions and customs, and she’d politely answered every question of his to the best of her abilities, but her actions didn’t always seem to work. Obviously, Voldemort didn’t like the fact that she acted like someone who knew better than him—even though she did—and he also didn’t seem to like it when she was being too honest.    
  
She understood now, observing Draco’s stance and facial expression and Voldemort’s pleased reaction to him Voldemort wanted someone who gave him everything he wanted, someone who stroked his ego, and someone who lived for him.   
  
And if that was what he wanted, she would gladly give it to him.   
  
Softening her eyes and letting out a sweet smile, she dropped her spoon and reached for Draco’s hand across the table. She stared at their hands with faux longing, locking their fingers together and ignoring the pleasant warmth that came over her as Draco’s large fingers engulfed her own. “I feel the same way, my lord. I love Draco, and I can’t wait to be one with him.”   
  
Her smile widened when she looked into Draco’s eyes and saw utter confusion in his silver gaze. Good. Let him be the one perplexed and unknowing this time.   
  
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Voldemort stated, turning to look at her. “You see, when Draco specifically requested to be married to you, I almost refused him, but now, aren’t you glad that your High King has provided you with all the happiness in the galaxy?”   
  
Her gaze snapped back to Draco’s face, her eyes widened and mouth slightly opened in shock, but he wasn’t looking at her—he was frowning at his plate, his thumb caressing her knuckles absently. So he’d lied to her before! And he wanted to marry her, after all! But why? He’d always made it clear just how much he disliked her and how much he wished she wasn’t the one he was tied to—did it have something to do with his plan? She remembered him saying something along the lines of ‘being forced to marry her to gain the support of Venus’ that particular night in the library, so she must be correct in her assumptions of their marriage being a part of his great plan of overthrowing Voldemort.   
  
Before she could get lost in her thoughts, Hermione turned back to Voldemort and smiled again. “Yes, my lord, so very happy.”   
  
The High King nodded, still creepily smiling, before turning his gaze on Draco. “I’ve actually been planning to get married myself, you know?”   
  
“To whom, my lord?” Draco’s hand slipped out of her hold, and he continued eating his food as though nothing had happened. As soon as his hand left hers, she was already desperate to get it back—a thought she chose to ignore for now.   
  
“I was thinking of collecting brides across the other seven planets.” Voldemort looked lost in thought, his smile now turning into a predatory grin. “One woman per planet, perhaps? Then, I’ll keep them all locked up in one room—maybe even make them battle each other for a place in my bed.”   
  
It took all of Hermione’s willpower not to rise to her feet, slide the dagger out of its hidden holster under her skirt, and stab the weapon into one of Voldemort’s soulless eyes. He was a disgusting man who deserved a thousand deaths by the hands of all the people he’d ‘conquered’, and Hermione remained ever-curious about just how easily a human like him could succumb to death.   
  
She’d read from somewhere that Earthlings bled in deep shades of red, and at this very moment, she felt the need to test if it was true.   
  
She looked down at her plate, coaxing out a forced laugh from her lungs when she heard Draco and the vile human do the same. A part of her knew that Draco’s amusement, just like everything he’d done and said during this dinner, was fake, but she wanted to hate him for it—she wanted to hate him for his compliance and his willingness to laugh at all of Voldemort’s unfunny offensive jokes. But, of course, the truth of the matter was, Draco wasn’t compliant, and he wasn’t Voldemort’s best friend. He was his own man with his own ambitions.    
  
He was going to take Voldemort’s throne, and she was going to help him accomplish his plans.   
  
This forsaken dinner was enough to convince her of Voldemort’s unworthiness, of his total inability to rule the solar system. She could now see him for what he truly was—a greedy and vicious human who had simply conquered all seven planets just to prove he could and to inflate his already-oversized ego. He’d destroyed billions of lives and disrupted peace on the planets to simply state he ruled over them all.    
  
He had no plans of attempting to make the universe a better place for all those who dwelled in it; he was just another selfish human with too much power, and if history truly repeated itself, then Hermione could easily predict the events that would come if Voldemort continued to be the ‘Apex Leader of the Known Universe’ as he said he was. Selfish humans had existed before, after all, and they had been so deep in their corruption and greed that they’d nearly destroyed the planet they were living in. This time though, one particular greedy human owned the entire universe, and she knew that if it continued that way, the solar system as everyone knew it would be no more. If Voldemort continued to reign over everything and everyone, it would bring nothing good to the universe—he would only end up almost destroying everything, just like all the previous humans had done to their precious planet.   
  
Hermione could not very well let him do that—no, she wanted someone else to take over, someone better, someone much more deserving. She turned her gaze to Draco who was too caught up in his asinine conversation with the High King. Could he be the better ruler she was thinking of? From what she knew about him so far, she didn’t think so, but if she were to be his wife, she could also end up becoming a ruler, the queen who’d help him lead, once he’d successfully laid out his plans.   
  
She mulled it over in her head for a few seconds before absently nodding to her thoughts. Yes, ‘Queen Hermione’ sounded quite pleasantly to her ears, and she was more than certain that she would be a much better ruler than Voldemort could ever strive to be.    
  
A mischievous smile propped up her lips at the thought. She had a plan of her own now, a plan that would surely result in a coronation that she’d been dreaming about even when she’d still been stuck on Venus. But for that to happen, of course, she needed to tell Draco that she knew of  _ his  _ plans and that she was going to help him first.    
  
After she’d done that, the real fun could finally begin.

* * *

“What are you playing at?” Draco demanded as soon as her bedroom door slammed shut, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.   
  
When he’d told her that he wanted to  _ courteously  _ walk her back to her room after Voldemort had dismissed them for the night, Hermione had immediately known something was up. Her betrothed rarely did chivalrous things just because he could. The only times he’d ever been chivalrous towards her was when he had something to prove and when it had been required of him to do so.    
  
Regardless of their previous encounters, she’d let him escort her to her bedroom anyway. After all, there was something of importance she needed to tell him as soon as possible, and that kind of conversation was not the kind to be held in a public setting.   
  
“What do you mean?” Hermione attempted to feign innocence for a bit, wanting to see how he’d react.   
  
“Don’t play dumb,” he spat. “You and I both know it doesn’t suit you.”   
  
She chuckled, smiling sweetly as she stared up at his face. “I’m glad that you’re acknowledging the fact that I’m smarter than you.”   
  
“I didn’t—”   
  
“I need to tell you something, Draco,” she softly spoke, giddiness running through her veins. She was positively excited to see how he would react to what she was about to reveal, unable to resist her urge to tease him just a little. Approaching him, Hermione noted how his scowl faded with every step she took until it completely disappeared on his expression, replaced by a confused frown, his eyes intensifying by the minute. She only stopped when her face was a few inches away from his chest, momentarily stunned at how magnificent a male’s chest looked like up close—and his shoulders were so broad and wide and so…  _ hard. _ _  
_ _  
_ Her eyes widened as both of her hands, seemingly of their own volition, splayed across his firm chest, her fingers languidly tracing vague patterns. She was not a stranger to muscles, of course, but there was something different about men. Draco, especially, was so much taller and bigger than her that standing close to him often felt like having a living shield nearby, like he was capable of protecting her from any possible danger—not that she needed protection of any sort from anyone.   
  
She stared, frozen in place, as Draco’s larger fingers gently wrapped themselves around her wrists, acting as a softer version of manacles and pulling her hands off of his chest. She felt his head inch closer until his lips were brushing against the shell of her ear. “What are you doing?”   
  
Subconsciously, she shivered at the feel of his warm breath and the feel of his rough palms enveloping her wrists. She shut her eyes and tipped her head back, as though in complete submission, as though she was ready for the next thing he wanted to do to her.   
  
“Hermione,” he whispered in her ear, causing her to snap out of whatever daze she put herself into.   
  
As if doused with a pail of ice shards and cold water, Hermione’s eyes snapped open, and she forcibly shook her hands away from his grip. When he let out an amused chortle after he’d finished righting himself up, her face heated up in embarrassment, and to prevent further humiliation, she took a few steps backwards, suddenly content with continuing their conversation from a safe distance.   
  
She inhaled a breath of courage and glanced back at him, looking away again when she saw the smug smirk on his stupid face. What had just happened? Something had come over her as soon as she’d touched his stupid chest! Oh Kromelia, she would never be able to live this down! Why did she have to act like an infatuated schoolgirl  _ now, _ when she thought she had something she could hold against him?   
  
She blinked rapidly—wait, she still hadn’t told him! She still had a little leverage over him!   
  
A sly smirk slipping into place, Hermione took a seat on the nearest chaise and poured herself a cup of the wine that seemed to be available in every room of this palace. Draco followed but refused her offer of wine and to sit beside her. She shrugged, sipping her first taste of Earthling wine. As the liquid burned her throat, she tried her hardest not to let her disgust show and distracted herself by leaning back and looking up at Draco, grinning evilly. “I know your secret.”   
  
He frowned instantly, shooting her a suspicious glare. “What secret?”   
  
Hermione giggled deviously at the concern he’d tried to hide in his eyes. “One night on the ship, I discovered a certain hidden room in the library.” She paused to relish in the realisation dawning on Draco’s face. “I was quite surprised when I heard your voice there, along with two other men, but to be frank, I was more taken aback when I heard of your plan to overthrow Voldemort.”   
  
“Not so loudly,” he muttered, never taking his eyes off of her. “The walls have ears.”   
  
She nodded, taking a quieter and more serious tone. “At first, I didn’t know what to think. The loyal and faithful and honourable Martian I thought I was going to marry was nothing short of a traitor to the cause I thought he’d serve for life. I didn’t know how to feel about what I’d heard—I mean I hate Voldemort as much as the next Venusian—perhaps even more—but does he truly deserve what’s coming to him in the form of one of his soldiers?”   
  
“And?” He raised a pale brow, his face now void of any emotion. Fleetingly, she wondered if he was contemplating whether to kill her for what she knew. “What’s your answer to that question?”   
  
“I think,” she trailed off, remembering everything her home planet surrendered and everything other planets must’ve endured, “he does. He does deserve to have everything he’s ever known taken away from him. The only thing he doesn’t deserve is his title. Beyond that, I couldn’t care less about what you do to him.”   
  
“So you’re not going to report me?” he asked, still cautious and still acting like he was treading dangerous waters.   
  
“Who do you think I am?” She snorted, slamming her cup back down on the table. “Of course, I won’t bloody report you! What could I possibly gain from telling on my treacherous fiancé?”   
  
“You would probably be rewarded for your loyalty.”   
  
Hermione waved his words away. “Whatever reward it would be, I’m sure it wouldn’t be nearly as great as what I could have if I  _ didn’t  _ spread your secret.”   
  
Draco nodded slowly, coming to another realisation. “You want something from this, don’t you?”   
  
She beamed up at him, another round of giddiness zapping across her skin. “Yes, I do.”   
  
“What is it, then?” he demanded. “Do you want money? Jewellery? Servants? Just tell me, and it will be given to you immediately.”   
  
Hermione stood up, clicking her tongue, and walked until she was, once again, right in front of him. “I do not need material objects and temporary belongings, silly.”   
  
“Then what do you want?” He glared down at her, looking very impatient.   
  
Unbothered by his growing temper, Hermione trod even closer to him, braced her hands on his broad shoulders, and stepped on his boots, standing on her tiptoes there and making sure her mouth teased the tips of his ear. “I want to help you. I want to see Voldemort’s head on a pike for all the other planets to see, and I want to help you do that. I want to see your plans come to life. I want to see you kill that useless human, and I want to help you get to that throne. After that, I want to be your queen, to rule over the solar system beside you as an equal.”   
  
With every word out of her lips, she felt him stiffen more and more, and by the time she was done speaking, he stood under her hands like a large breathing block of ice. She couldn’t help but let out another smile as she slowly drew herself away from him, seeing his focused expression. The longer she stared, however, the more she noticed his darkening eyes, his quickening breaths, and his small smile. He looked so gorgeous there, standing still before her with his intense silver gaze and his spreading evil smile.   
  
He looked as though he was about to slit her throat or take her from behind—either way, Hermione felt like she would let him.   
  
“You really are one in a million, aren’t you?” he said, his dark tone sending tingles all over her skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”   
  
She shortly ran her tongue over her lower lip, her breath hitching. “Is that good or bad?”   
  
“Good.” Draco approached her with a predatory gaze, engulfing her face with his big hands once he was close enough. She shut her eyes when his thumb brushed against the whole shape of her lips, desperately standing on her tiptoes and letting out a small pleading whimper. “Definitely good.”   
  
She felt him leaning down as she moved her face up, and she only felt his breath flutter across her nose for a single Earthling second before he captured her mouth with his.  _ Finally. _

Relief washed over her entire system as soon as his lips touched hers. Her hands explored his hard chest once more while his arms travelled down to wrap around her waist. Oddly enough, being in his large arms felt like coming home, so she moaned and wrapped her own arms around his neck, wanting him to feel as secure, as safe, and as utterly home as she did.   
  
This was the first time she’d ever kissed a man, and it was nothing like the fumbling awkward mess she’d thought it would be. Instead, she and Draco kissed like they’d done it a thousand times before. Their mouths moved in sync with each other, and they were both quick learners, both eager to find out what the other liked.    
  
He was obviously a dominant man, and it showed through the way he devoured her mouth. His tongue prodded her lips open, and she accepted all that he had to offer her. She let him lead the way for now because honestly, she just really wanted to continue kissing him.   
  
“I knew it,” he mumbled in between kisses. “I knew you would be so fucking delectable.”   
  
“Shut up.” she breathed, biting his tongue as a punishment of sorts. Thankfully, he gave her another bone-shattering kiss.   
  
She gasped when she felt his big hands move to her hips, caressing her skin there before he squeezed the cup of her arse. Desperate for more of his hands on her body, Hermione nipped at his lower lip to let him know just how much she liked his actions. She felt him grin against her mouth, and she wrenched away from his mouth for a second when she felt herself being lifted off the floor, Draco’s hands guiding her legs around his waist, but she put her lips back on his where they belonged not long after.   
  
With one hand gripping her waist to stabilise her position, Draco’s other hand moved to her now-disorganised curls, using his hold to pull her head away from his lips. She growled, leaning in again, desperate to have his mouth back on hers, but he refused to relent, only staring at her with his dilated eyes and grinning at her with his swollen lips. She’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “You are so fucking gorgeous, do you know that?”   
  
Hermione smiled at his unexpected compliment. She’d known of her otherworldly beauty, of course, and had been told of it many times before, but it felt different coming from Draco—somehow, with just a few words, she could believe that she was the most beautiful creature in the entire universe.    
  
“I know.” Unable to keep her hands and lips away for long, she caressed his cheek as her mouth left small kisses on the other side of his face. “You are, too. So masculine yet also feminine at the same time.”   
  
“No.” He shook his head, pulling her head further away to really look at her. “ _ You’re _ gorgeous, and I’ve known it since the first time I saw you. Your sheer beauty transcends worlds, universes, and dimensions. And you’re so brilliant too—fuck, I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”   
  
She took his face in both of her hands, donning the biggest smile of her life. “Believe it. I’m not going away any time soon. In fact, I’m not going away until you’ve given me what I want.”   
  
His swollen lips broke out into the softest, most adorable smile she’d ever seen from him. Was it possible for a single turn of his lips to make her heart melt? Because she felt as though that was the case. “I—”   
  
A loud knock on her bedroom door cut off whatever he was about to say.    
  
“Hermione, my child? Are you in there?” the Ruling Mother’s voice sounded from behind the door, making Hermione freeze up in Draco’s arms.   
  
When another round of knocks rapped on the door, they finally found the sense to jump away from each other, fixing their appearances as they ignored each other’s existence in embarrassment. Oh Kromelia, what had they done? What were the things they  _ almost  _ did?   
  
“Just a minute, Mother!” she called back, her cheeks heating up in remembrance of the scandalous things she’d just done with Draco. “I fear I don’t yet look worthy to be in your presence!”   
  
Her words seemed to satisfy the Ruling Mother for now.    
  
Hermione’s hands worked quickly—letting her curls out of her ruined bun, grabbing a brush from a nearby table to get rid of the remaining tangles, twisting her Martian skirt in place, flattening out a few wrinkles on upper robes, and putting the pendant of her necklace in between her collarbones where it belonged. When she was done, she slowly turned to face her betrothed, only to find him staring at his shoes.   
  
“I, uh, I think you should go,” she stuttered, suddenly finding the ceiling very fascinating.   
  
“Yeah, I will. I’m just—” He cut himself off by clearing his throat. When she looked back at him again, she saw that his facial expression had changed from flustered to looking seriously concerned. “Look, I’m sorry for, uh, acting improperly and kissing you just now. I was—I don’t know what—”   
  
“Don’t be sorry!” she blurted out, glancing away when his head snapped up in surprise. “I liked it.”   
  
“Like what?”   
  
“Kissing you,” she mumbled, her entire face now hot and probably discoloured from embarrassment.    
  
“Oh,” said Draco dumbly.   
  
“Yeah, I’m just going—”   
  
She was interrupted by the Ruling Mother’s powerful voice from behind the door. “On second thought, come to my sleeping quarters instead in ten Earthling minutes.”    
  
“Of course, Mother,” she shot back, inwardly groaning at the thought of going outside at such a late time especially after what had just occurred. “I’m looking forward to being graced by your presence.”   
  
It wasn’t until the Ruling Mother’s footsteps faded when Draco finally broke the silence between them.   
  
“I want to apologise for another thing as well,” he spoke up, this time unafraid to look her in the eye. “I want to say sorry for the way I spoke to you and the way I treated you before. I was unmistakeably rude towards you, and I know now that I should have never fought with you like that.”   
  
Despite herself, a smile unknowingly broke out of her face, and she didn’t even realise that she was approaching him again. “It’s alright. I also said some mean things, and I guess I’m sorry too for arguing with you before.”   
  
He smirked down at her, a hand of his grasping her face once more. “Will you forgive me if I forgive you?”   
  
Unabashedly, she stared at his lips as he spoke, itching to have them back on her skin again. “It’s a deal.”   
  
Standing on her tiptoes to reach him, she planted one innocent peck on his lips before pushing him away instantly. But he didn’t stay away for long, striding forward and taking her into his arms to capture her lips once again. She moaned and deepened the kiss, her arms locking around his neck automatically.   
  
Twenty minutes later, she showed up late in the Ruling Mother’s bedroom, her curls unkempt, her robes wrinkled, and her lips delectably-swollen. She got scolded, of course, but Hermione found that certain things—and kisses—were worth getting in trouble for.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I took the concept of this story from the 645th prompt from [Service Scape's 660 Science Fiction Writing Prompts That Will Get You Writing At Warp Speed](https://www.servicescape.com/blog/660-science-fiction-writing-prompts-that-will-get-you-writing-at-warp-speed). Without that site, I would've been lost af. Are you guys excited for the ending? Lmk in the comments!
> 
> Paalam for now! ;)


	4. Union

Hermione hated the texture of Earthling fabric against her skin. Even more, she hated how the wedding dress Voldemort had made for her cinched her waist but flared out unnecessarily from that point, and as she stared at herself in the full-length looking glass now, she swore she felt tears prickling her eyes, realising that she’d failed her own culture and traditions.  
  
Venusians rarely got married nowadays in the first place. Weddings were a thing of the past—a wasteful, forgotten custom that only showed off how much money two lovers had instead of the love they were supposed to celebrate, and Venusians had long since figured out that you needn’t have a one-day celebration to flaunt your love for another. Hermione hadn’t ever witnessed a wedding ceremony in her life, and up until very recently, she’d thought she would never get to see one, let alone have one of her own.   
  
But that didn’t mean Hermione wasn’t familiar with Venusian wedding customs. She’d been in love with her culture even as a child, and she’d sought to learn every bit of Venusian tradition from the distant past up to the present day—she knew a Venusian wedding to the finest detail and knowing that she wouldn’t able to have that today broke her heart.   
  
In Venus, it was important for the betrothed couple to show off as much skin as possible, but a woman’s sex was only meant to be seen by her lovers and no one else, so in old Venusian weddings, women had rarely worn dresses at all. Baring one’s skin and showing one’s body without impure worldly belongings implied that they were open to having their significant other in their life and that they were willing to love every inch of their betrothed’s bodies, despite their obvious imperfections and superficial flaws.   
  
In a long-sleeved white wedding gown that covered up most of her skin, Hermione felt as though she’d betrayed her heritage, as though she wasn’t trying hard enough to represent her culture. She fought the tears though, not wanting to ruin the day more than it already had been.   
  
Both she and Draco failed to realise that Voldemort wanted them to wed on Earth for this particular reason—to parade them in front of the entire solar system and showcase how successful he’d colonised all seven other planets. He’d forced them to throw out the wedding garbs they’d brought from their respective planets and forced them to don traditional Earthling wedding uniform instead—a plain white wedding gown for her and dull black dinner jacket and trousers for Draco.   
  
She’d been informed by a HelpBot earlier that all the couples forced to marry through Voldemort’s decree were supposed to have different wedding ceremonies representing Earth’s most popular religions. Knowing that only made the matter worse, in Hermione’s opinion, and only made her more certain that the High King had conquered the solar system for one reason—to let every single intelligent creature know that everything in the universe was and would be the property of the humans and nothing more.   
  
Oh, how she longed for the day of his death and dethronement. With each passing Earthling day, it was becoming clearer and clearer that Voldemort simply wasn’t suited to rule, and she just wanted to be rid of him soon.   
  
Sighing mournfully, she turned away from the mirror as her thoughts quickly flew to Draco. What was he doing at this moment? Would he look more beautiful than he already was in his suit? Was he thinking of her as well?   
  
With a huff, she plopped back into her chair, crossing her arms. The worst thing about this Earthling wedding was, she hadn’t been able to meet with Draco for a couple of days now because of another stupid human superstition. Admittedly, she missed him—his decadent lips, his playful tongue, his tantalising eyes, his soft white-blond hair, his big hands, and everything else about him. She especially missed being in his large arms though. Although there was no doubt that Draco Malfoy was an arrogant prat, he truly gave the sweetest and warmest hugs.   
  
“May I come in, Princess Hermione?” She visibly jumped from her seat as the unfamiliar male voice, speaking in Modern Venerian, interrupted her thoughts. The man’s thick accent and incorrect use of grammar in her mother tongue sounded jarring to her ears and almost physically wounded her Venusian soul. Immediately, it became clear to her that the intruder wasn’t a Venusian native.   
  
Her head turned to determine who the trespasser was and faltered when she saw very familiar features on a stranger. Judging by his pale appearance, tall stature, and strong accent, Hermione figured that the man must come from Mars. But what was he doing in her bedroom, of all places?   
  
Suspicious, she straightened up and glared at him. “Who are you?”   
  
The man’s pale brows raised ever-so-slightly. “I feel as though I should be offended by your inability to recognise my resemblance to my son—the man you are about to marry in only a couple of hours.”   
  
“ _You’re_ Draco’s father?” she pointlessly asked. The more she stared though, the more she realised how much he looked like Draco. Their hair shared the same shade of pale blond, they had very similar face structures, and they had the same facial expressions and habits. They even carried themselves the same way!   
  
“Lucius Malfoy,” he introduced, respectfully bowing his head.   
  
Of course! Lucius Malfoy, the High King’s third-in-command! Briefly, she wondered if the man standing before her had any idea of what his son was planning to do against his king or if he was just another Martian arse-licker who supported Voldemort in everything he did.   
  
“What are you doing here?” she questioned in an accusatory tone. She would never trust anyone who even thought of backing Voldemort’s cause.   
  
“I have something to give you,” he replied, pulling something out of the dinner jacket he must’ve worn for the wedding. She frowned when he laid out the object in his hands—a necklace, she realised once she properly had her eyes on it. “It is a Malfoy family heirloom.”   
  
Slightly bewildered, Hermione took the necklace from his hands and stared at it once it was laying on her palms. “Thank you.”   
  
Draco’s father visibly stiffened at her words, shooting her a mild glare—that was so Draco—to conceal his discomfort. Was it a Malfoy family trait to close up whenever things were getting too affectionate? “It was created approximately a hundred and fifty years ago by my ancestor, Vita Malfoy, as a wedding gift for her son’s wife, and it is supposed to be given to you now by Draco’s mother.”   
  
“Oh,” articulated Hermione. “And where is Draco’s mother now?”   
  
“She died when Draco was young,” he answered, not a hint of emotion on his face. “She wronged the High King and was executed for her actions.”   
  
With those words, Hermione began theorising about the reason for Draco’s betrayal. She suspected his thirst for Voldemort’s blood had something to do with his mother’s death. It could even have been the catalyst for his entire plan. Always eager to seek the truth, she made a mental note to ask him about the matter in the future.   
  
“I’m sorry for your loss.”   
  
“It happened a long time ago.” He elegantly shrugged. “Don’t bother with saying nice words. She would’ve wanted you to honour her memory instead by being a good wife to the boy she loved the most, to Draco.”   
  
“I will be the best wife that I can be,” she promised if only to ensure that he left her room as soon as possible. She was still not comfortable being around people who probably thought of Voldemort as a god. “Thank you for giving me the necklace. I’ll wear the necklace for the ceremony today to honour my promise, your family’s tradition, and Draco’s late mother.”   
  
Lucius Malfoy nodded once, took one last glance at the necklace, and left the room without saying another word. When he was out of sight, she attempted to wear the necklace.   
  
It only took two minutes of struggling before Hermione finally managed to clasp the two ends of the necklace at the back of her neck and successfully put it in place without outside help. Then, she grabbed the white veil that should complete her wedding garb and took her precious time in putting it over her head.   
  
She looked in the mirror again when everything was in place, barely recognising the woman who stared back at her from the inside of the looking glass. It was the most foreign she’d ever felt in her own skin, and she needed the entire day to just be over and done with already, so she could go back to her Venusian clothes, practices, and habits where she liked herself the most.   
  
Inhaling a breath full of her minuscule yet heavy burdens, Hermione stood in front of her open door and waited for the guard that was supposed to escort her to the chapel. She knew the guard wouldn’t come for at least an hour, but she stood still and waited anyway, torturing herself by standing there for hours as a silent apology to her people for failing them this first and last time.

* * *

After six hours of performing unfamiliar wedding rituals, conversing with unenthusiastic guests, eating bland Earthling food, and being forced to laugh at Voldemort’s humiliating jokes, Hermione was finally allowed to retire in her new bedroom, the one she was supposed to share with her new husband. The said husband was standing before her now, trying to drown himself in the expensive wine that had been gifted to them by one of their many guests. She, on the other hand, sat in utter exhaustion on the foot of their new bed, gesturing for Draco to also pour her a cup of the wine.  
  
Once he handed the goblet over to her, Hermione gulped the contents down in one swig. In truth, she wasn’t a fan of how the alcohol burned her throat on its way down, but a small part of her was hoping that the liquid could make her forget everything that had occurred earlier or that it would grant her enough courage to face what was about to happen head-on.   
  
Voldemort had wanted their marriage to be consummated as soon as possible. He’d made that known to everyone many times during Hermione’s first supper as a married woman by making crude jokes and perverted comments that had often insinuated Draco ‘taming the beast’ in her, as though she was some sort of savage he wanted to put down and beat until she conformed to his human ideals—as though she was an exotic animal he wanted to keep as a pet; or an object he wanted to use and abuse; or another piece of property he wanted to stick his Earthling flags into.   
  
The High King had spoken about her—along with the rest of her family and the few elite Venusian warriors they’d brought with them—like she was nought but a toy of little value, and because of this, Hermione itched to see him die right before her very eyes. When the right time came, she swore to watch him as the light left his eyes, as the last breath puffed out of his lungs, and as his red human blood poured out of his pierced skin. Hopefully, Draco would be there right beside her, already sitting on the throne, a haunting yet alluring glint in his eyes.   
  
“What are you thinking about?” her husband spoke up. It was still quite strange to think of him in such a manner, but she supposed it was only the good thing to come from today’s exhaustive events. Now he was undoubtedly her husband, and she was his wife.   
  
“Nothing,” she instinctively responded, shrugging.   
  
His eyes narrowed for a moment before he also shrugged his suspicion off. “I’m sorry about the shite wedding.”   
  
“It was out of our control.”   
  
“Still,” he insisted, “I wish we got married on Mars instead, right before we left for Earth.”   
  
That was when an idea struck her.   
  
“Let’s get married again, then,” she suggested, enthusiasm surging back to her veins. “When we leave this planet and go back to Mars, let’s get married again there. Perhaps we can even follow through Martian and Venusian traditions instead of… _this._ ”   
  
“That’s not a bad idea,” he said, walking up to sit on the bed next to her. “Let’s get married again on Mars, and again on Venus—two weddings for the unconventional couple from two different cultures.”   
  
“Yes.” She lightly chuckled, brightening up at the thought. “Promise me we’ll have two weddings much better than this one.”   
  
Draco turned towards her, a soft look appearing in his eyes as a matching gentle smile graced his lips. “I promise.”   
  
She didn’t know why, but a calming sensation washed over her entire body as they stared at each other, seemingly empowered by each other’s adoring smiles. To her, at this moment, getting lost in his soft grey eyes was equivalent to a relieving three-day meditation, and there was simply nothing that could ever compare to the inner peace brought to her by the gentle joy present on his preciously beautiful face.   
  
Raising a hand to cup his cheek, Hermione’s eyes shut automatically, and her face slowly moved upwards, aching to meet his lips. Her smile widened when she felt his large fingers grazing her neck, and she leaned in quicker, badly anticipating his kiss.   
  
“Where did you get that necklace?” was what she received instead of the life-changing kiss she’d expected.   
  
Blinking a couple of times before finally focusing on his face with a frown, Hermione pulled away. “What?”   
  
“This necklace,” he elaborated, his fingers gripping the jewellery around her neck. “Where did you get it?”   
  
“Your father gave it to me before the wedding ceremony.” Her frown deepened, and she forced his hand to let go of the necklace. “Why?”   
  
Draco stared at the necklace for a little longer before visibly swallowing and looking away. “Nothing.”   
  
“Wait.” She grabbed his face and forced him to meet her gaze again. “It reminds you of your mother, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”   
  
“You know about her?”   
  
“Your father told me that she died when you were young,” she said, taking a deep breath. “He said that she was executed for wronging the High King.”   
  
At her words, he let out a bitter chuckle. “She was _murdered_ for not letting that fucking human vermin into her bed. Did you know that he once told me that he liked his lovers bruised and nearing death?”   
  
Righteous anger pulsed like electricity in Hermione’s chest, and her hands formed fists despite herself. “He’s a monster, and we’ll make sure he gets what he deserves soon.”   
  
“We will.” He nodded firmly, glaring into space. “We’ll rip him from the inside out, pull apart his internal organs, and make him watch as we take everything from him.”   
  
“And I can’t wait,” she whispered into his ear. “I can’t wait to see you snuff him out of this universe. I can’t wait to see you wearing his crown while blood leaks out of his wounds. I can’t wait to sit beside you and rule this forsaken galaxy with you.”   
  
As soon as the last word left her mouth, Draco grabbed her face and kissed the living daylights out of her. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly kissed him back, matching his desperation with her own.   
  
When he pulled away, Hermione almost didn’t realise, seemingly too breathless and dazed. His hands stayed holding her face though, and his thumbs lovingly caressed her lips. Hermione couldn’t help but take one of those thumbs into her mouth, licking and sucking on it desperately.   
  
“Fuck,” he swore, pushing his thumb deeper into her mouth. “You’ll be the death of me.”   
  
She grinned, letting his thumb go with a plop. “And you’ll love it.”   
  
“I would.” He laughed, the sound sending pleasurable tingles to her abdomen. His arms moved to her waist, and he promptly lifted her off the bed to sit her on his lap, all without so much a blink. Once she was firmly seated, his hands proceeded to play with the curls framing her face. “I never thought you’d be so… wicked, you know? I thought you were the nicest girl with the purest heart.”   
  
“Really?” she said, intrigued to hear more of his first impression of her. “I knew you were a prat from the start.”   
  
He chuckled. “I suppose I should’ve known that you’d be such a wildfire when the Ruling Mother told me that you would be the one most suited to me out of all her daughters.”   
  
Hermione frowned, slightly confused. “What do you mean?”   
  
“Well, you heard the High King say that I chose you to be my wife, right?” He only continued after she nodded. “I picked you because I had a prior deal with the Ruling Mother—in short, she said that she would only aid me in the coming rebellion if I married you.”   
  
She thought about his words for a moment. The Ruling Mother had deliberately chosen her to be the wife of Draco Malfoy, the future High King if luck was on their side. She’d known that whoever married Draco would be ruling alongside him after the rebellion—so was Hermione overthinking the matter or did the Ruling Mother had knowingly chosen the best path for her, the supposed throwaway third daughter?   
  
A tiny smile curved her lips. Mother Minerva wanted her to be the queen, not her two elder sisters because she knew that Hermione would’ve done the title justice. An even crazier possibility was that the Ruling Mother knew of Hermione’s ambitions, of her dreams of becoming a ruler, and had given her an actual fighting chance to become one.   
  
Silently, Hermione thanked her mother for not failing her as she’d thought she had and for actually thinking of what was best of her in the long run.   
  
“So you’re just using me then?” she teased, wrapping her arms around Draco’s neck. “After you’re done taking the entire solar system from Voldemort’s grubby hands, are you just going to toss me aside?”   
  
“After _we_ get the solar system to fight for _our_ cause,” he corrected, looping a strand of her hair around his index finger, “I’m going to give you your own title—an empress for my emperor, maybe? High King has always sounded asinine to me. Then, I plan on collecting precious gems from every planet and using those to bejewel your crown, a crown that I’ll be making myself, a crown that I’ll be putting on top of your pretty little head myself.”   
  
Hermione beamed at him, a strange emotion welling up in her chest. “Empress Hermione Malfoy sounds absolutely perfect.”   
  
“It does, doesn’t it?” His eyes darkened for some reason, and he left a short flutter-like kiss on her lips. “Almost as perfect as you.”   
  
Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just flattering me.”   
  
“Maybe I am,” he absently drawled, shrugging. Grabbing her chin, he moved her face closer to his and let their lips touch in the most invigorating manner. She gasped the moment their mouths meshed, her stomach fluttering as she pushed her face closer to his and deepened the kiss.   
  
“Let’s outlaw forced marriages in all seven planets,” she suggested, gasping as his mouth latched on the length of her throat. “I don’t want anyone to use something as supposedly sacred as marriage to abuse their partners again.”   
  
He just nodded, intent leaving marks on her neck.   
  
“And I want you to take me to all the planets, to the neighbouring galaxies even,” she added in between moans. “I want to make a home with you everywhere.”   
  
Nodding again, Draco gave a long, toe-curling lick to her collarbones.   
  
“And—ah!” Shutting her eyes in pleasure as one of his adventurous hands squeezed her left breast through the wedding dress she still had on. “Education! I want to provide free education for every—fuck! For everyone! It’s a really important—”   
  
She got cut off by another one of his soul-searing kisses that once again left her breathless.   
  
“I’ll do anything you want,” he declared, planting small kisses on her face. “We’ll make a paradise out of the entire solar system, I promise. We’re going to remove any remaining traces of Voldemort’s regime, and everything is going to be better once we’re on the throne. Would you like that, my queen?”   
  
The knee-weakening combination of his darkening grey gaze and his deep baritone almost turned her into a sex-fuelled creature, thoroughly blinded by lust. “I would.”   
  
Their lips crashed into one another again, this time causing less-than-innocent actions. As his tongue slipped into her mouth, her hips jutted forward, aching to seek release. His hand searched for the tiny button that would make everything come undone on the back of her dress, quickly pressing it once he’d found the small thing near her nape. She let out a relieved gasp as she felt the dress took itself out of her person, having to part from Draco’s lips and stand before him for a quick second to let the entire nightmarish fabric slip out of her body and fall into the floor.   
  
Once she was free, she pounced back on Draco’s lap, grabbing his face and kissing him again. His hands were quick to explore her newly-exposed skin, and she loved that he seemed to be fascinated by the womanly shape of her body. His fingers reached for everything—her breasts, her hips, her arse, her stomach, and the expanse of her back—and as always, his touch felt as though it was trying to engulf her, swallow her whole in the best way possible. And she absolutely loved it. She absolutely loved the feel of his larger and rougher hands on her bare skin.   
  
Much later that night, as she ground her hips over and over atop him, gasps flying out of her lips while her husband’s rigid member thrust in and out of her dripping quim in the most delightful manner, Hermione realised that for being only the third daughter of the Ruling Mother of Venus, she could’ve done a lot worse than marrying Draco Malfoy; a brilliant man that matched her thirst for knowledge and blood; someone who was willing accommodate her in his plans; and a considerate lover with frisky fingers, a titillating tongue, a larger-than-average appendage—not to mention, the future emperor of the universe.   
  
Oh Kromelia, she truly couldn’t have asked for a better husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This month, we were asked to write a fic in a specific genre, and as you may have guessed, mine was sci-fi! Truth be told, I had another fleshed-out idea for this month—it's sci-fi as well and seeks to answer the question: "What does it mean to be human?" I planned it to be a hell of a rollercoaster of emotions, but I realized while plotting out the story that it would be much better if I wrote it out as a longer fic. So if you guys want more of this sci-fi trash from me, go ahead and tell me in the comments because I might just start on that tossed idea if people are actually willing to read it lol.
> 
> Anyway, what the hell did you guys think of this garbage of a fic lol? Tbh, I have a love-hate relationship with this fic. Is it the same for you guys? Tell me what you think of it!
> 
> Paalam!


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